


Htmute 0f lialm. 



BY MBS. J. S. ADAMS. 



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BOSTON: 

PUBLISHED BY ADAMS & CO., 
No. 21, Bromfield Street. 

1866. 



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Entered, according to act of Congress, In the year 1865, by 

Mrs. H. A. ADAMS, 

In the Clerk's office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. 



XI XW 




SlEBEOTTPED BY C. J. PETEES & SON, 

No. 13, Washington Street. 



CONTENTS. 

oo^oo . 



Aimless Lives . 

A Life-Lesson . . . * ** 

An Allegory of Human Life .' 30 

Angels of Mercy . 48 

At Last ••..-.] 39 

Autumn ... '•••... 191 

A Vision . . [ ' 160 

Children ... ' * # • • • . 163 

Christ ... *••».. 175 

Crosses ,.',', * • • ~ • • • . 138 

Diversity of Life . 43 

Dreams ' ' ' ' ■ * * 102 

Earnest Lives . '••«.. 108 

Faith and Doubt . ' ' ' ' ' 83 

Friends . 161 

Glimpses ...',' • 6 • • . 107 

God in All Things' .' 172 

God's Blessings Inexhaustible' .' ' ' ' f? 

Immortality . • • • . 24 

In the Spirit^Land t 17Q 

In the World ... • • • • . 109 

Invocation , •**».. 15a 

Let us Be Useful . ' * 5 

Manifestations of Grief .' 12 ° 

Memory-Tides , . ' • * • • 41 

Near the Shore .'.',' 23 

Not Dead; not Absent.' * * < • • 37 

Our Burdens , ••■•..« 16 

Our Present Duty . « 183 

Passive Life . 20 

Prayer of the Wanderer .' 18 

Purification . . ' 1G0 

Questionings , ' •••... 171 

79 

S 



CONTENTS. 



Questions of Time 

Retrospection g5 

Shadows 197 

Waters lz ' 

27 

121 

. 74 

. . . • .139 

21 

. 136 



SOUNDS FROM OVER THE 

Spring 

The Advent of the Angels 

The Aged 

The Angel and the Lilies 

The Awakening 

The Bereaved Mother 

The Dawn «~ 

The Divine Principle in Man J^ 

The Gem of Truth ig3 

THE Golden Chain 

The Gold that Perisheth ^ 

The Harvest 6g 

The Land of Jewels 

The Lesson of A Summer Day . . . • • • 

The Light From Above ^ 

The Mother's Coronet gg 

The Mother's Vision . . « • • • * • 
The New Light that shineth on All . . . • ^ 

The Old and the New 

THE Passing on ••*••• ' lgl 

The Prayer oF Soul ..•■••• g? 

The Kiver ..." ^ 

The Sacrament 

The Temple and its Builders ^ 

The Three Angels g6 

The upper Fold ...«♦••• 6g 

To Give is to Receive '47 

Transition « ..»•*' 4 lgg 

Trust * 29 

Unrecorded Beauties g 

Vision of the Golden Cross Q2 

Vision of the Worshippers . ^ 

Waiting .*.♦••• ' ] 90 

Where is God ? . « * * * * 



^nbatuttart. 



HOLY and beloved Father, who holdest 
the universe in thy hand, who dwellest 
in the storm, who crownest all thy works with 
man in thy image, we need not ask thee to 
care for us ; for we know that thou art ever 
reaching out through our lives, expanding 
the power and capacity of our souls, and mak- 
ing us more like thee. 

Thou, who createst us, knowest every need; 
and whether we are weighed down by sor- 
row, or borne up by joy, thy hand is still the 
same, thy protection ever about us. 

Knowing that from thee emanates all life, 

that in thee we live, move, and have our 

being, how can we but forever trust thee, 

\ and say, " Thy will, not ours, be done " ? 

i Slowly we learn the richness of thy mercy 

and the measure of thy long endurance. 

Impatient, we cry out to thee, "Show us thy 
being and the fulness of thy love." Each day 



INVOCATION. 



thy glory shines about us ; and we see it not. 
Each blessing that descends to us is a mani- 
festation of thy protecting care. 

But we are weak and blind. We stray 
many times from the central light, and go 
down into darkness. Then we say, " Thou 
hast forsaken us, God ! " Alas ! it is our- 
selves that have gone out of thy kingdom; 
for thou art the same, yesterday, to-day, and 
forever. The seasons, nursed by thy hand, 
bring their round of changes. In them we 
see thy love and wisdom. The alternations 
of birth and death follow in rapid succession : 
but they are only the coming and going of thy 
breath ; for thou art over and in all. 

But for thee, how like waves should we be 
tossed ! 

How consoling the thought, that thou art 
all-powerful; that thy "mercy endureth for- 
ever ; " that whether -we sit in the evening 
shadow, or stand in the morning light, of life, 
thou art with us, and knowest whether our 
paths are filled with thorns, or gemmed with 
flowers ! 

With jubilant song we approach thy altar, 
and seek to harmonize our lives with thy 
manifestations of love. 



INVOCATION. 



Ages multiplied by ages will roll on, and 
we shall ever be learning of thee. Forever 
and ever the song shall arise, "Hallelujah! 
or our God omnipotent reigneth." 



Smut!** 




I LAY me down to rest one day, with the 
cares and burdens of life pressing heavily 
upon my brain. Soon the body was lulled 
into a quiet repose, and the soul had crossed 
the bridge that spans the outer and the inner 
worlds. 

I stood near the base of a mount, up which 
I had a strong desire to ascend ; but vainly I 
tried to approach it. A form came near me. 
His brow shone with a clear, resplendent 
light, which seemed akin to glory; his face 
was calm, and so radiant, so Grod-like, that I 
stood in his presence like one entranced, nor 
cared to speak. I soon observed that the 
light which transfigured his face shone upon 
the mount. 
" Why cannot I ascend ? " I said. 

9 



10 BKANCHES OF PALM. 

In a voice low, and musically sweet, lie an- 
swered, "Child, this is not the way unto the 
mount, not this steep ascent: thou must 
travel a long way ere the summit of that 
heavenly mount is reached. Yonder lies 
a path, a long and often dreary road, that 
winds unto the mount." 

" Who are those," I cried, " that already 
walk that road ? and why has each a cross ? '■ 

" My Master bade me give them to them," 
he replied. " I am the way and the life." 

" Do all receive their cross from you ? " 

" Yes, from my hands ; but they are ap- 
portioned to each by my Father : I am placed 
here to guide and cheer the pilgrims on their 
way." 

"Can none ascend without a cross?" I 
asked. 

" None. Just at the portal of the heavenly 
mansion stands the keeper, who takes the 
crosses from the pilgrims : they are their 
passports into the blest regions. None can 
enter who have not the holy emblem; for 
without it ye would not have seen me, whom 
the Father has appointed to give the emblem 
to all his children." 

"Are all the crosses heavy ?" was the 



VISION OF THE GOLDEN CROSS. 11 

question which I framed ; but, ere the words 
were spoken, he said, " Not all : some choose 
to carry small ones, and few are willing to 
carry the unsightly crosses you see." 

" But where is mine ? " I cried. " I am 
going to the mount. I'm a pilgrim." 

With a face sad, but heavenly in its sadness, 
he replied, and placed his hand as though in 
benediction on my head, — 

" Child, this is thy cross ; " while with his 
finger he pointed to one that lay upon the 
ground. 

" Why this ? " I said in look, not word. 

" Because it must be borne unto the mount, 
and many have refused it." 

I gazed upon its huge proportions, and won- 
dered not. 

" I could make that burden easy to be borne," 
he said ; " but I must do my Master's bidding, 
and not unfold, before the journey's end, the 
glories of his kingdom. Take it, child," he 
said in pleading tones; "and thou shalt not 
regret the burden. He who is willing to carry 
this shall have many angel comforters, and my 
deepest intercessions for the Father's aid and 
blessing." 

He raised it from the ground, and pressed 



12 BRANCHES OF PALM. 

to my parched lips a cup filled with the 
waters of life. I took the heavy cross, and 
with his blessing travelled slowly from his 
sight. 

I saw no travellers upon the road that day. 
It was dry and dreary ; but my heart rejoiced 
to see that the curves were winding in an up- 
ward course, and that, some day, after many t 
toils, I should reach the mansion. There' 
were many dales and lonely places from which 
the mount was not visible; and often, in 
anguish, I cried, " I have lost my way ! will 
no one come to show me the mountain and 
the mansion?" 

How weary grew my feet ! how heavy was 
the cross ! 

" Oh that I had taken a smaller, one ! " I 
cried. " What matters it, if 'tis only a cross 
by which we gain admission, whether it is 
small or great ? " 

( At this moment a traveller appeared, bearing 
in his hand a small and elegantly carved cross 
made of pearls and precious stones. "How 
coarse and rough is mine," I thought j and as 
he came bounding, light and easy, over the 
road, what vexations filled my soul, what long- 
ings to rid myself of my great burden ! 



VISION OF THE GOLDEN CROSS. 13 

" Pilgrim/ 7 I cried, u didst thou choose thy 
cross ? " 

" No : I had some pearls and precious jewels 
to carry unto the holy land. I made them in 
the form of a cross, and so was allowed to enter 
on the road." 

" Will he enter the same mansion," I thought, 
"as one who toils like me? as one whose 
burden is so great, that, at every step, the 
drops of sweat run down the face ? If so, the 
scale of justice surpasses my poor mind to 
comprehend. Who could not easily reach the 
mount with only a toy like that to bear?" 
Thus I sat musing until he was far from sight. 
I heard his feet a long way on the road, and, 
though a fellow-traveller, I felt no love for 
him, but only envy, and deeply mourned that 
my cross should be so great ; deeming strange 
and fathomless all the ways of God. 

My feet grew weary, my brain bewildered, 
a strange heaviness came over me, and I laid 
down beside my cross, and cried with grief. 
Something like a vision swept over my senses. 
I saw two lovely angels bending above me, 
and yet I had no power to move or speak. 

" He has fainted by the way," said one, as 
he laid his hand upon my throbbing head, 



14 BRANCHES OF PALM. 

" The heavy cross ! — it was too large to 
bear/' said the Angel of Sympathy. 

" Not too great," answered Wisdom, who 
still kept his hand upon me. " We will give 
this pilgrim a little foretaste of heaven's joys 
to cheer and help him on his way." 

He passed his hand across my brow. 

I saw, — human heart, what weakness ! 

human ears, how dull ! — I saw, the end of 
the journey, — a soft green meadow, which a 
light, more glorious and bright than the heart 
of man can conceive, flooded with beauty. 
The pilgrims laid down their crosses by a sil- 
ver stream, when, lo ! the golden light, so deep, 
so mellow, fell upon the pilgrims' crosses, and 
turned them all to gold. 

" Who has the heavy cross, who ? " was the 
eager question bursting from eager lips. 

" Oh that / had taken it ! " said one. 

I looked whence came the voice. It was 
he who had passed me with the pearl and 
jewelled emblem. With curious gaze I looked 
for his cross. It had been taken from him ; for 
he had not received it from the Father's Son. 

1 heard a voice say unto him, "The Father 
allows none to enter the mansion with but the 
semblance of a holy cross. You have gained 



VISION OF THE GOLDEN CROSS. 15 

the kingdom and the rest too easy. Return, 
and scatter those jewels on the road, that the 
weary, way-worn travellers may be by their 
sight refreshed and strengthened. This is 
thy work and mission now. Then obtain 
from Him who is the way and the life thy 
cross." 

With a sad, downcast face, he left the happy 
group. 

" He shall not pass me, and find me sleeping 
beside my burden," I cried ; and with one great 
effort I awoke. 

" Where is my cross ? where are my angel 
guides ? " were my first inquiries. 

The dream was real. Its lesson sank deep 
into my soul ; and when, in after-years, sor- 
rows pressed upon me, and burdens came 
which seemed too heavy for me to bear, I re- 
membered the vision of the golden cross, and 
sighed no more. 



Clouds lie ofttimes between us and the 
sun. If we keep our eyes turned heaven- 
ward, we shall behold the glorious orb ; but, if 
our gaze is downward, we shall see only shad- 
ows lying on our path. 



16 BRANCHES OF PALM. 



They are gone ! Ah, how we miss them ! 
We no longer hear their notes of joy, nor 
listen to their life-song. Suddenly the voice 
quivered, the song ceased, and white lips 
closed forever. 

But the soul went forth to join a chorus 
above. We loved them here. Does Affection 
die ? Shall Memory hush her magic sounds, 
and we remember them no more ? 

They are with us still. Their feet tread 
Elysian fields, whose verdant carpet echoes 
no tread. But are they gone because we see 
them not? Has the portal closed forever? 
Are there no finer senses in our souls by 
which we may be cognizant of their presence ? 
Does this form of flesh embody no delicate 
perceptions with which to perceive their 
gentle teachings? Yes ; we hear them coming: 
we hear them in our souls. 

Through the dark tomb, a ray of light shines : 
it falls upon our pathway ; and a new world 
dawns upon us whose orbit is a cycle, of end- 
less glory. The senses falter, then firmly 
grasp the mighty truth. A new power is 



17 



developed within us, something above and 
beyond the sense of sight and touch. This 
belief of the presence of invisibles around us 
cannot be grafted upon the external being. 
There must be an interior spiritual awakening 
for its unfolding. Many say that it has no pow- 
er, because intangible to human perceptions. 
Are not the most potent forces unseen and 
silent ? What more subtle than, yet what so 
powerful as, love ? Who has not felt a mother's 
love ? Can it die because she has passed to 
another form of life ? Is the rock less alive 
because it takes on a mossy verdure ? has it 
less of life? Is the human soul less alive 
when it has passed to a sphere of greater 
activity, a life of finer perceptions ? 

No : they are not dead, but alive, and near 
us ; appealing each day to our souls, impart- 
ing emotions which are often so attenuated 
that the external senses fail to feel their gentle 
teachings, and we sit with bowed heads beside 
the tomb, while rainbows of light are arching 
above us. 



Beautiful thoughts are the flowers of the 

mind. 

2 



18 BRANCHES OF PALM. 



gmivt gtffo 

There are times when the soul seems dumb ; 
when we hear the moments rushing by, but 
our dull brain catches no jewels as they fall 
from the hand of Time. 

No action floods the soul. We try to think ; 
but brain and heart alike are powerless to 
conceive. 

What is this state, this niche of passive 
soul-endurance, in which we seem to stand to 
wait God's bidding, and take what he doth 
send? 

All activity of the soul is not aggressive. 
There are silent forces which do not give 
themselves immediate expression, but grow 
and deepen in the soul's deep quarries till 
the hour of labor comes. 

We are not placed here merely to act ; we 
must also endure, — endure long and patiently. 
How such endurance sends- the soul aloft ! 
How, then, doth the soul go out to gather 
to itself the attributes of peace and gentle- 
ness ! Is there not action in all this ? Is the 
artist idle when his brush is laid aside, and 
his fancy seeks new creative realms ? Is the 



PASSIVE LIFE. 19 



poet sluggish, because he sits in dreamy 
silence as the golden hours glide by ? Are 
those days wasted when we sit, and dream of 
holy things ? The waves must recede as well 
as advance. The tide of thought must ebb, 
and the waters go down and leave us on the 
sandy beach ; but we can gather the pebbles 
which the waves have cast on the shore, and 
await the incoming tide. 



We know that all our peace 
Is bought by strife ; 

That every haven of rest 
Lies o'er a billowy life. 

We know that darkest hours 

Precede the light ; 
That anchors, sure and firm, 

Are out of sight. 



Our most delicate and subtle thoughts we 
seldom transmit. The mind is not transparent 
enough to receive their impression. Their 
beauty would be lost in the deep shading of 
words. 



20 BRANCHES OF PALM. 



The living — give them kind words and 
loving deeds. Wait not to carve an eulogy 
upon the stone above their heads ; keep not 
back the merited word of commendation while 
they dwell in the flesh. 

Too many, alas ! too many, shut the door of 
their hearts till the loved one has passed on ; 
till the warm, loving heart has ceased to beat, 
and the willing hand is palsied in death. 
Then the words which should have cheered 
their souls in life ripple over their graves, — 
words which, if given when they were with 
us in the flesh, would have linked them to our 
souls, and, now that they have arisen, would, 
like a chain of love, have drawn us up to 
them. 

It is natural for us to idealize, and speak 
tenderly, lovingly, of those, men call " the 
dead." It is refining to our souls to do 
so ; but let us remember that the kind 
word and deed to the living to-day are bet- 
ter than any eulogy we may place upon 
the tombstone we rear for them to-mor- 
row. 



THE AWAKENING. 21 



Day was walking over the western hills, 
and throwing aside her golden bars on meadow 
and plain. Amber, rose, and pearl-tinted clouds 
floated on the sapphire sky, against which the 
tall green pines were waving. Nodding flow- 
ers closed their fringed lids, and raised their 
lips heavenward, awaiting the evening dew. 
Little brooks lay like sparkling gems in their 
setting of deep green meadows. The dark 
pines murmured a low sweet prayer, so soft, 
so sweet, it seemed the breath of angels. 

One by one the brilliant stars came forth. 

Night's coronet was set upon her brow, and 
Twilight slumbered in her arms. 

Amid this glory walked a man with weary 
feet, and heavy heart and brain. His daily 
task was done, and just beyond the soft green 
meadow and the lake lay his home. 

Amidst all this rich, resplendent beauty, no 
joy suffused his being; no deep, holy thrill 
from God's great works ran through his soul, 
for it was dumb. 

Like cattle driven to their feed, he plodded 
home. 



22 BRANCHES OF PALM. 

Stars shone in vain ; winds sighed on sense- 
less ears; heaven's glories swept the aerial 
arch unnoticed. 

Then G-od spake nnto his soul in deep and 
awful tones. Over the starry realm he threw 
a cloud so dark no ray could penetrate it. 
Fierce lightning darted through the air ; loud 
peals of thunder rolled till earth trembled, and 
seemed like a ship afloat upon a tempestuous 
sea. 

Crash went the tall dark pines ! 

Wilder grew the blast, till his dull, dead 
heart began to tremble, and the slumbering 
pulse to quicken into life. Great drops of 
sweat stood on the laborer's brow. Great 
giant fears swept over his soul, till on his 
knees he sank. What was that sound that 
rose above the din and noise of the tem- 
pest ? A cry for help, — " Save, Father, or I 
perish ! " 

A soul was born, and this the first faint cry. 
The thunder ceased ; the surging winds died 
into a moan; the heavy clouds rolled back, 
and, lo ! the moon flooded all the scene with 
its silver rays. 

Behind the cloud, God's love is shining like 
the moon's mild rays ; but, if we see him not 



THE AWAKENING. 23 

in beauty r and prosperity, he will send the 
storm, and drive us to his haven of love. 

Let us watch that we grow not dull and 
sordid in life's great labor, and fail to see the 
glories of the jewelled heavens and flower- 
painted earth as we walk homeward 1 



We need changes not only of localities but 
of minds, from which to derive strength and 
life. Occupations too long continued in one 
direction deprive the mind of an elasticity 
which is necessary for an even development 
of the soul. In long-continued mental exer- 
tions, we become warped, the mind loses half 
its powers ; and we forget that there is another 
world beyond the line which bounds our vis- 
ion. 



My vision sometimes sweeps 

Over life's winding road, 
And sees the narrow path 

Grow high and broad : 
It sweeps far down the night, 

And sees a day, 
Resplendent with the light 

Of worlds away. 



24 BRANCHES OF PALM. 



How insignificant, how atom-like, are the 
mightiest powers of man compared to the 
great Sun of Wisdom ! From what source, 
my soul, does that great centre gather its life, 
filling all immensity with immortality ; filling 
each soul, as fast as it can gather in the grains 
of knowledge, and yet hath in reserve ten 
thousand times, yea, myriad times, more of 
worlds on which to shower his blessings ! 

Who shall speedily stand in his presence ? 
We must gather him up in the particles of 
knowledge that he has given us; and they 
must be the God of the soul, till it has gained 
new powers of accumulation. 



Never write the word " despair " upon the 
book of time. Eternity is its running title, 
and the leaves are written over with immortal 
truths. 



We must think deeply, and act earnestly. 



MEMORY-TIDES. 25 



Memory-Tides — hark ! Now there breaks 
on our life-shore a spray of golden memories, 
— of days when warm and youthful hearts 
clustered around our lives, and we pressed 
the cup of joy eagerly to our lips. 

Then the wave recedes, and by the light of 
recollection we read a dear name upon a time- 
worn stone. How leap the flood-tides ! What 
surges roll over us, as the well-remembered 
form comes to our mind ! 

How we long for sight and touch ! 

Has the soul no language but speech? 

How fast they come, — the memory-tides, 
and the dear familiar faces ! How the old 
years roll back again, and pass before our gaze 
*with their pictures of light and shade ! There, 
A the childhood home ; here, the lover's vow ; 
then the mother's parting kiss, the busy 
scenes, the cross, the crown of happiness, the 
open grave where we laid our first jewel which 
the Father gave ; the earthly trials, the vic- 
tories. 0, dashing memory-tides, recede, or 
the soul will grow weary recounting all its 
joy, its grief! Break from our shores, and 



26 BRANCHES OF PALM. 

leave us to-day ! let the golden light of to- 
morrow's joy blend with the shadows of 
to-day ! 

The waves recede, leaving us purer for the 
baptismal billows which have broken over us. 



O Soul ! work, watch, and wait ; 

For we snail find 
The eternal city and the pearly gate, 

If pure and kind. 

O Soul ! toil, hope, and pray j 

For rest is ours 
After we've gained the high ascent 

Through sun and showers. 

O Soul ! have faith, and look 

Through clouds at even ; 
For the eternal sun will shed its rays 

On us in heaven. 



How lovingly has divinity deposited the el- 
ements of happiness where every soul can be 
filled with that which it craves. What an 
omniscient distribution of mercies. 



SPRING. 27 



What pen can picture the beauties of this 
season? "What mind can transmit the fervid 
emotions and thoughts which sweep over us 
as we look on the tiny blades, or listen to the 
murmuring brooks and the warbling birds ? 

Where has all this life slept ? What master- 
hand has now struck the chords, and opened 
the gates of heavenly harmony ? 

What tints of beauty ! What rare and deli- 
cate combinations, — from dark forest-pines 
and moss-covered rocks, to the fringed and tas- 
selled boughs which sway in the gentle breeze ! 
Dull, indeed, must be the eye which sees no 
beauty in such shading. Earthly must that 
nature be which feels not the electric thrill 
from such bursts of life. 

The distant hills are gemmed with blos- 
soms ; the brooks that slept so long in silence 
now ripple a murmuring song. Busy insects 
hum, and skip from spray to flower, lending 
their orisons to swell the great chorus. 

A new pulsation sweeps over the earth. 
Loosed from their icy fetters, the laughing 
rills leap and dance with joy. The skies grow 



28 BRANCHES OF PALM. 

soft and downy; the woodland paths, green- 
edged and mossy. 

In the rich and varied landscape, all harsh 
lines are swept away by the tender foliage, 
nodding gracefully among the deep, dark 
pines. 

What a season for aspirations and promises I 
How the mind rests in such a balmy life ! No 
piercing wind drives us within our walls, no 
cruel blast penetrates the lonely and shelter- 
less dwelling ; but warm winds lure us to wood 
and glen, while the soft breath of Spring kisses 
our aching brows. 

What makes this season so lovely ? It was 
the Winter's blast. It is the background of 
sorrow that makes our joy so thrilling. 

It is the night which makes the day glorious. 
No sunrise or sunset could gladden us with 
their beams of glory did not the darkness in- 
tervene. 

gentle spring-time of thought ! burst- 
ing buds of love ! Bloom forever, till from 
every heart buds of beauty shall blossom, 
which no Winter's blasts can chill. 



We need a margin for every page of life. 



UNRECORDED BEAUTIES. 29 



What majestic thoughts flow daily from the 
lips of men, that no pen transcribes ! What 
heart-phrases, what fervid, earnest words of 
love, fall from childhood's lips ! What fires 
of love flash out from eyes of fond affection ! 

What great soul-tones flood out in blessings 
on the brave and good ! 

What silent prayers ascend for the wayward 
and the wanderer ! 

What pearly tears flow, silent and unseen, 
save by angels ! 

What faces rapt, transfigured with celestial 
love, that are never pictured on canvas ! 

What jewels in the sea of human love, that 
never rise above the daily wave ! 



Go into the wide world ; traverse the moun- 
tains of thought ; be a pilgrim in the land of 
beauty and perception; catch every sun-ray 
peculiar to each soul, so shalt thou gather 
all the beams that shine through the hearts of 
men. 



30 BRANCHES OF PALM. 



It was a warm 'summer day. A soft haze 
hung over the meadows, while a gentle breeze 
stirred the long branches} which surged 
dreamily to and fro. Silvery brooks threaded 
their way through verdant fields, and sang 
joyously as they rippled over the shining 
pebbles on their bed. 

A youth lay dreaming away the hours of 
that summer day, under the wide-spreading 
branches of an oak. He had labored a few 
hours at his task ; but it was far from being 
completed. The waters of discontent had 
flooded his bosom, till they surged wildly 
within. He raised his dark, dreamy eyes to 
the clear blue sky, and, heaving a deep sigh, 
exclaimed, " Ah me, I wish I was rich ! then 
I should not have to toil and slave as I do 
now. If I only had a fortune, I would travel, 
and see life and the wonders of this world, 
and spend my whole life in pleasure. Why 
was I doomed to this life of drudgery, 
when others have enough to live without 
labor?" 

An angel passing at that moment, on an 



A LIFE-LESSON. 31 



errand of mercy, read his thoughts, and heard 
the murmuring of his idle tongue. 

"I must teach him that wealth alone will 
never satisfy the cravings of the human 
soul." 

She touched him gently with her wand, and 
he seemed to rise from his body, and float out 
on the air. 

He gazed a moment on the beautiful angel 
at his side, and thought some fairy had come 
to bless him. 

" Follow me," said the angel. 

He arose and obeyed. Over land, over sea, 
they flew, till his brain grew dizzy, and his 
breath came hard and labored by the rapid 
flight. 

" Now," said the voice beside him, u we will 
descend." 

The youth gazed wildly on the glittering 
spires and lofty buildings. At first he trem- 
bled ; but his guide looked so calm and secure, 
that fear forsook him. 

" We will enter this city," she said. " Hasten ; 
for we must speedily enter the house of death. 
I am commissioned to bear a spirit from 
earth." 

He drew back. 



32 BRANCHES OF PALM. 

" Fear not," said the guide : " I have a lesson 
to teach you." 

They descended, and entered a damp, 
gloomy cellar, in which no ray of sunlight 
ever entered. Upon a filthy bed of rags lay 
a man in the death-struggle. He was a miser. 
His life, or rather dead routine of existence, 
had been spent in the single act of accumula- 
tion, adding gold to gold ; never giving, never 
using the bounties of heaven to comfort him- 
self or his brother man, till a hand from another 
world came to take the wreck of manhood, to 
take the smouldering spark of humanity, and 
kindle it to a flame. 

A groan from the dying man caused the 
youth to start, and turn pale. Another, one 
convulsive gasp, and his soul was ushered 
into the presence of higher, holier intelligences, 
who stood ready to guide him to life and light, 
though years must pass before the corroding 
rust of his sin would wear away. 

" See ! " said the angel, and with her wand 
she pointed to a large chest which stood in a 
dark, dim corner of the apartment in which the 
soulless body lay. " There is the treasure 
you seek. Take it, and be happy. In one 
year I will return." 



A LIFE-LESSON. 33 



She fled before he could sense her words. 
Gladly would he have given all that gold to 
have brought her back again. Alone in that 
strange city; alone with the dead! Gold, 
plenty of gold, but no friend, no counsellor, no 
guide ! Oh that he could return to his native 
hills. 

He walked stealthily to the chest, and, seiz- 
ing the heavy bags of treasure, ran furiously 
down the street. It was dark, and no one saw 
his wealth ; but soon his feet grew weary, and 
he longed for food and rest. 

" Where shall I hide this money ? n was the 
ever-recurring question. Already the gold, 
which, a few hours before he so coveted, had 
become an annoyance. " I'll bury it," he said, 
and hastened rapidly to the border of the busy 
town. By the light of a dim street-lamp, he 
concealed it beside a wall, and then, with a 
portion which he reserved for a few personal 
wants, ran hastily towards the city. 

In vain he tried to slumber after procuring 
a lodging. No sleep would come. The fear 
of losing his treasure had chased away all rest 
and peace. The pleasure of life soon, how- 
ever, displaced the heavy, anxious feeling in 
his mind. Day by day he grew more worldly- 



34 BRANCHES OF PALM. 

wise, and plunged deeper into the vortex of 
the gay life about him. Scenes of dissipation 
became to him as familiar as was once his own 
quiet woodlands and murmuring brooks. 
Night after night he spent in revelling, till 
the heated brain grew sick and fevered. For 
weeks he lay upon his bed, tossed with pain. 
Oh for some water from his childhood's pure, 
deep spring, to cool the parching thirst that 
consumed him ! Oh for a mother's hand to 
soothe the aching brow ! 

The pale moonbeams swept over his bed 
one night as he lay lonely and uncared for; 
for his gold could not buy love. A voice — 
he had heard that voice before ! 

" I have come," said the angel, " as I prom- 
ised. Art thou happy? Thou hast gold 
enough." 

Inwardly he groaned. He tried to speak ; 
but the parched lips, and burning, swollen 
tongue could utter no reply. 

" In one year from now, I will return again." 

She was gone. The moon was clouded. 
No breath of evening air came through the 
open window. " I must die," he said, " here 
and alone ! Oh, let me live, my Father, let 
me live to atone for all my sins ! " 



A LIFE-LESSON. 35 



In a few days, life and health returned ; and, 
with returning strength, the love of life's wild 
pleasures. He forgot the vow, the angel 
visitant, the pain, and plunged deeper into 
the busy current. 

He loved an earthly, heartless idol, formed 
of clay, soulless and sinful. He sought ever 
for the boon of happiness, but found it not. 
u Alas for the pleasures of earth ! " one day he 
cried. " Oh, give me but my boyhood's home ! 
My mother's happy smile were more than gold, 
a thousand times, to my sad heart ! " 

But the siren of pleasure was not done with 
her victim. She had yet more snares and 
temptations with which to lure him from vir- 
tue's path, while the guardian angel looked 
silently on his course, knowing that it would 
soon be run. 

One evening, wearied with the scene of 
gayety around him, he sat apart from the 
heartless, seemingly happy throng. He heard 
a voice — it was the voice of one who had 
vowed to love him through life — say in her 
sweetest tones, to another as false-hearted as 
herself, " I love not him, but the gold he brings 
me. The position his wealth gives me is what 
I really love." 



36 BRANCHES OF PALM. 

A moment later the sound of rude, loud 
voices rang through the hall, telling him that 
all his earthly goods were swept away ! 
Now all was gone, — love, money, friends, and 
earthly hopes. His brain grew dizzy. A wild 
delirium seized his mind. He tried to call for 
help. To whom ? None loved him. No one 
cared to soothe his brow. 

"Hast thou found happiness?' 7 said the 
heavenly voice. "This is all of earth that 
I can give thee. Wilt thou not walk in 
higher paths ? Awake, arise ! I will release 
thee now. Go, and learn to be content in God's 
appointed ways. Find rest and peace in duty's 
paths." 

The youth awoke, and, lo, the evening sky 
was glittering with stars. A cold, damp sweat 
was on his brow. He gazed a moment wildly 
around to become assured that 'twas not more 
real than a dream ; then arose, tired and weary, 
from his cold, damp bed upon the grass. 

Not only from a physical sleep did he awake, 
but from a spiritual stupor of discontent ; and 
ever after, as years rolled by, and murmuring 
thoughts arose, the strange, wild dream came 
to his mind with all the vividness of ac- 
tuality. 



NEAR THE SHORE. 37 



gto ill* $1xm. 

Come near to me, my darling, 

And lay your hand in mine, 
I am going to a temple 

Where heavenly beauties shine 
Throughout its lofty archway 

And round its pearly gate, 
Where I shall stand, my loved one, 

When " the cord is loosed," and wait. 



For I shall see you coming 

Along the heavenly shore ; 
Shall hear the silver waters 

Just broken by the oar, 
As the pale boatman plies it 

Along the river's tide : 
Then I shall clasp you, darling, 

And call you still my bride. 



The frosts of many a winter 

Have on our earth-life laid ; 
We've seen our roses wither, 

And many a hope-beam fade 
But we have had some sunshine, 

And many a golden ray 
Has lain across our pathway 

Throughout our long life-day. 



38 BRANCHES OF PALM. 



The pearly gates of heaven 

Have opened many a time, 
And down the angel stairway 

We've heard the holy chime 
Of soft angelic voices, 

In sweet and thrilling song, 
Singing, " Behold, the morning ! 

The night will not be long." 

Lo, when the gates swing open 

Again, I shall pass in, 
Oh, while I walk the golden streets 

Let not your lamp grow dim ; 
But keep it bright and burning 

Through every care and strife, 
Till the gates once more are open, 

And death is lost in life. 



Behold the streams of mercy, how they 
water the parched and barren places of earth ! 
Are we sin-sick and weary: see the cool 
streams in which we may bathe, and be re- 
freshed. Have we trod the path of error un- 
til our feet are sore and bleeding: behold 
the fount of mercy which is never dry, — that 
stream kept full and flowing by the tears of 
angels who weep for wandering, erring souls. 



ANGELS OF MERCY. 39 



Angels of mercy — the} 7 are bidden from 
our sight by robes of flesh. They pass 
in and out of our homes, administering to 
onr needs without parade or show. When 
we stray, they chide us; when we hunger 
and thirst, they give us food and drink; 
still we cry, " Send us angel comforters." 
Alas ! they are at our side, and we see them 
not. 

They are not robed in white ; but their souls 
are spotless. Such are angels, though in the 
flesh ; some in loving childhood, some in gen- 
tle age. Their footsteps are heard in the no- 
ble tread of manhood, as he visits the " widow 
and the fatherless/' There is one in every 
household, — one who truly lives for the good 
of man, and the glory of God, — one clothed in 
shining garments. They already walk the 
streets of the New Jerusalem, They have 
laid their hands upon the harps of heaven, 
and we hear sweetest music, from the melody 
of their harmonious lives. All who contribute 
to the happiness or comfort of those less 
favored are angels of mercy. They are not 



40 BRANCHES OF PALM. 

all beyond the " river of death : " they are 
standing beside the cross we bear ; the crown 
is just beyond. 



\ 
If thou wouldst gather joys unto thyself so 

many that angels cannot number them; if 
thou wouldst draw the tide of eternity ever 
softly around thy soul, labor for humanity. 

Stand forth, and labor with the crown upon 
thy brow ! Trust in the God who made thee, 
the God who will keep thee ! Count thy spir- 
it as adequate to any work, and thus make up 
a grand, a positive power, that will attract 
those bright seraphic souls who will reflect 
upon you the light of their dazzling glory. 



When the tide goes down, we gather shells 
of lovely tints, and shining pebbles. We 
thought the spray and waves too beautiful to 
pass away. They were like the sparkling 
waters of pleasure which we long to retain; 
but, when they recede, we discover more last- 
ing beauties, and learn to rejoice that the wa- 
ters went down on our life shore. 



MANIFESTATIONS OF GRIEF. 41 



Any duty, however irksome, which takes 
us out of ourselves, is a blessing. It is better 
to go from the grave of our dearest friend 
with no time for grief than to have days 
and months of leisure for mourning. 

Not but the heart will be saddened, and the 
soul grief-stricken, when we have followed the 
loved one to the last resting-place ; but, when 
others are dependent upon our exertions for 
their comfort, we have no right to become ab- 
sorbed in our grief. These wholesome cares 
save us from a morbid selfish sorrow, which 
gnaws away the souPs vital powers. 

There are many mourners who fold a 
heavy drapery above their heads, so that no 
sunshine can penetrate the blackness of their 
grief. They have laid fold after fold upon 
their hearts, until its pulsations are dull and 
heavy. A languor steals over the once healthy 
mind, and all things seem covered with a pall. 
Such grief is selfish. 

The world has a right to our smiles. It 
needs all our cheerful rays of hope to warm 
it into life. 



42 BKANCHES OF PALM. 

We have no right to withhold what we can 
give. 

Is the peace of the loved ones who have 
gone enhanced by such sadness ? 

Can they reflect to us their new-found joys 
while we dwell in such darkness ? 

Not that the heart under bereavement can 
sing as joyously as before ; for the eye will 
moisten when we listen for the coming of those 
feet that once walked with us, but now walk 
the streets celestial. But there is a natural, 
and a morbid, sorrow. Let us discriminate 
carefully lest we cloud the horizon of our 
coming day with dark shadows, watchful not 
forgetting to lift the curtain of our grief 
when we hear the voice of the sweet bird of 
hope, warbling around our dwelling. 



We all need at times to be re-assured and 
strengthened. In the battle of life we lose 
our weapons, and are ready to lie down with 
fatigue, overpowered by the enemy. The 
humblest may hand us our sword, the lowliest 
bring us a cup of water when we faint by the 
wayside. 



CROSSES. 43 



When crosses come, the glory is to meet 
them with hope and trust. That is the high- 
est culture of the soul, that enables us to 
meet any emergency unknown or unseen. If 
we knew that to-morrow some dark cloud was 
to come over us, the mind would grow spec- 
ulative, and seek to gather sympathy from 
those around, and, when the trial came, it would 
be borne partly by foreign power. Thus the 
power of the soul could never be tested. Let 
us first endure, then ask for sympathy. 

Sympathy can divide the grief, but it can 
never disperse the responsibility that belongs 
to every soul to bear its own sorrows. 



"We have gossamer wings of light 

With which to float in air : 
We may use them for our flight ; 

But never, never dare 
To soil them in the dust 

Of a dull, inactive life ; 
For e'en gold hinges rust 

Not turned in daily strife. 



44 BRANCHES OF PALM. 



There are many mounds beside those which 
mark the forms we have laid in the dust. 
Friends we once loved have lost honor, repu- 
tation ; gone out of our lives as truly as buried 
forms have gone from our presence. We 
see them laid in the dust of an aimless life. 
" The places that knew them once know them 
no more." There is no death so sad as this 
moral and intellectual demise ; nothing that 
gives us greater pain than to see one who has 
talents, health, and vigor, fade out of busy, 
active life, and live intellectually dead at our 
feet. 

Mourn not the living dead, they who have 
passed on from this life to one of higher activity. 
They who walk with us day and night, calling 
us away from sordid cares to things that per- 
ish not, — they are not " dead ; " but they are 
dead whose aimless souls reflect no glory on 
their path. 

In life's great mausoleum, how many such 
forms lie mouldering ! 

Many a household is thus stricken. Where 
is the sympathy for such mourners ? 



AIMLESS LIVES. 45 

But, when the mortal puts aside the veil of 
clay for immortality, how glorious ! Over the 
graves of such, we stand with thrills of joy ; 
but for him whose soul is dead we have no 
tribute. Memory has no garlands for him. 
She only cherishes the sad regret of what 
he might have been. 



There are moments when every soul feels 
the need of solitude, the necessity of with- 
drawing itself from every human heart. 

The nearest and dearest cannot be with us 
in those hours. The soul needs to be bal- 
anced. The life*cord which binds us to the 
Infinite becomes worn and attenuated; but, 
while we rest in prayer, the fibres are strength- 
ened. 



How great is the gift of life ! how precious 
the boon ! Are our years richly freighted 
with the gathered opportunities which God 
has given us ? Do we sail into the haven of 
his love with a record of hours, days, and 
months well spent? 



46 BRANCHES OF PALM. 



Three beautiful angels walk the earth each 
day, and carry to their heavenly home the 
record they have kept of human hearts. 

Faith, Hope, and Charity are their names. 
Faith takes the hand of weary ones when the 
night-clouds gather around their heads, and 
leads them unto Hope, who crowns them with 
a wreath of flowers immortal. And when 
their wayward feet turn from the heavenly 
path, lured by false attractions, and they 
go on until their feet are torn and bleed- 
ing, and their garments soiled and stained, 
sweet Charity walks close to their side, and 
throws her pure-white mantle on their forms, 
covering all the stains and rags, that the 
passer-by may not see how soiled and torn 
they are. 



All things have their orbits. The kind 
and loving word never dies. The angry oath 
runs its cycle through human hearts. Let us 
sow as we would reap. Shall it be golden 
sheaves, or thorns and thistles ? 



TRANSITION. 47 



White hands folded 

Over clay ; 
Midnight darkness 

Lost in day ; 
Spirit risen 

From its dust ; 
Trembling fears 

Launched in trust, — 
This is " death," 

Mortals say ; 
But o'er the tomb 

Gleams a ray, 
Telling it was 

Only dust 
Passed away. 
Life and soul 

Were hid in crust, 

Which spirit burst 
With deepened breath, 

Finding life 
Through mortal death. 



The pure white hand of faith lifts the curtain 
of night, and shows our feeble vision a golden 
glowing morn. 



48 BRANCHES OF PALM. 



An old man who had counted many years, 
and gathered many a harvest-store of thought, 
sat in the beautiful moonlight of an autumn 
eve, and mused. 

His thoughts were not upon himself, but 
upon his children, his fair daughters three^ 
who had never beheld the world and its grer.tr 
scenes of human woe and joy ; for they were* 
born, and had lived from their first infant cry, 
in their fair island home. 

Round the island's mossy shores, the pearl 
waves dashed all day ; and, when the golden 
sun went down to his glassy bed, the queen 
of night came forth, and touched the foam- 
capped waves, and tall green pines, with her 
pure mellow rays. In this light, the old man 
sat long, and mused on the thoughts that 
weighed upon his soul. 

He had seen the busy world, had gathered 
its fair blossoms, and left its poisonous flow- 
ers behind. His rich experience in human 
hearts had taught him what was true and 
false. He knew the wail of sorrowing human 
hearts, and the soul's great bursts of joy. 



AN ALLEGORY OF HUMAN LIFE. 49 

He knew how much of earth's glittering 
gems were dross ; and what to leave, as 
well as what to take. But his fair children, — 
they who had never known of the deep sea 
of human joy and grief, — he must send forth 
upon its waters, although 'twould cost him 
many a bitter pang to do so. Well he knew 
the thorny places their tender feet must tread, 
and the cups of woe that never pass the 
human lips untasted. 

In their blessed home, one sound alone was 
heard, and that was joy : deep heart-tones of 
love and kindness had ever fallen upon their 
ears. But the time had come when the father 
must no longer revel in their loving presence, 
but send them far away to gather gems of 
truth and wisdom, and learn, by observation 
and discrimination, what no life of peace and 
quiet could give them. They needed what all 
human souls need, — the light of wisdom's 
coronet on their brows. Without it, their feet 
would stumble in life's dark places. So the 
father gathered all his manhood's strength 
about his heart, as one gathers his mantle to 
himself when he starts to face a cold bleak 
air, and called them unto him. 

u Ruby, Pearl, and Diamond," — he had 



50 BEANCHES OF PALM. 

named them for the gems of the deep-blue 
sea he loved so well, — " come here." 

Ere a moment glided, they sat beside him. 

In a firm yet gentle voice, he said, " I have 
called you, children, to fold you more lovingly 
unto my heart ; for / must send you over the 
sea into a great world that lies beyond. It 
will be years ere you return. I have a wish 
that each bring to me some treasure from the 
world which you will visit, — jewels, flowers, 
or rare things ; making your own selection, and 
thus indicating your individual tastes. Re- 
turn not empty-handed, nor with heart and 
brain unladen with grand and holy thoughts. 
Go, and see wondrous things. Learn to be 
strong. Receive my blessing, and, when the 
morning sun lights up the east, depart on 
yonder cloud, which will bear you safely over 
the sea, and descend at evening on the 
earth." 

The eyes of Diamond glittered like the 
evening stars. Ruby, flushed with joy, could 
scarce await the morn ; but Pearl, sweet clew- 
eyed Pearl, laid her fair face upon her father's 
breast, and wept. He pressed her tenderly 
unto his heart, and sighed to think it must be 
thus. He kissed her dewy lids, then placed 



AN ALLEGORY OF HUMAN LIFE. 51 

her hand in that of Ruby, who led her to her 
evening rest. 

The eyes of Diamond shone throughout the 
night ; but Ruby slept, and dreamed strange 
dreams. 

She thought a form arose from the deep 
sea, a form of wondrous beauty, and beckoned 
her to him. About his waist was bound a 
golden girdle, in which were fastened charms 
and jewels from the ocean's depths, — jewels 
more rare and beautiful than she had ever 
seen. 

He came unto her side, and breathed strange 
words into her ears, — words that made her 
start and tremble, yet not with fear; but a 
strange restless feeling came over her. She 
longed to be alone : her brow grew fevered ; 
and her brain seemed bounding with wild 
thoughts. 

" If Pearl would only come, and cool my 
brow," she cried. At that moment, the form 
sank beneath the waves ; for Pearl was seen 
approaching her sister. The light of her 
lovely face seemed too pure for him to gaze 
upon. Ruby noticed that the waters where 
he sank grew wild and turbulent, and that a 
tiny boat which was then approaching was 



52 BRANCHES OF PALM. 

almost clashed to pieces by the fury of the 
waves. She grew strangely restless, and 
awoke. The morning light already tinged the 
eastern sky. She looked towards the sea, as 
though expecting to behold the form, so real 
had seemed the dream. 

Diamond had arisen, and was already gazing 
impatiently on the golden-tinted sky. Pearl 
knelt in prayer ; her white hands clasped 
upon her breast, while her face shone with a 
light so deep and calm, that Ruby stood trans- 
fixed, and held her very breath for fear 'twould 
break the heavenly stillness. When Pearl 
arose, she threw a soft blue mantle over her 
head, and stood and gazed upon her island 
home, and then upon the sea, while the morning 
beams rested like a benediction upon her head. 

" Look you, the morning breaks ! the sun is 
coming over the sea ; we must away," said Di- 
amond. 

" Thou art impatient, sister mine," said Ru- 
by, shaking out her long brown curls. " Hast 
thou no regrets at leaving our fair home ? " 

" Yes, many ; but I long to see the world 
of which our father has so often spoken. I 
long to be away that we may gather all our 
stores and then return. Thou art thyself a 



AN ALLEGOEY OF HUMAN LIFE. 53 

little pleased, sweet Ruby, for, methinks, the 
deep blushes on thy cheek reveal an inward 
joy ; but Pearl, dear Pearl, she is in tears. 
Why, darling, you will weep your life away." 

" Children," said a voice, the voice that had 
sounded through all their childhood's years, 
"you must away, the day has broke." 

Diamond clung a moment to his neck, Ruby 
pressed her warm red lips upon his brow, 
while Pearl clung tenderly unto his breast. 

" Yonder is the cloud," the father said, and 
that was all ; for he dared not trust his trem- 
bling voice, and so he waved them his adieu. 

Not till the evening shadows came, and the 
mild silver beams of the slow-rising moon lit 
up the waves, did he lift his head. All day 
'twas bowed in grief and loneliness ; but his 
soul went forth in prayer to Heaven, that 
from temptation and long years of wandering 
they might be spared. 

Forth in the evening air he went ; and, as 
the dew fell on his brow, his soul felt a peace- 
ful calmness, for angels came to comfort him, 
— those messengers who walk where hearts 
are sad and lonely. 

" Where are my children now ? are they lov- 
ing and thinking of me ? " were the thoughts 



54 BRANCHES OF PALM. 

that again and again swept all other thoughts 
away. 

Years rolled away. The white locks grew 
thinner on the old man!s brow. The years 
had brought him many tidings from the fair 
young wanderers. 

All had asked him for his blessing, and his 
prayers in their behalf. The gay, the busy 
world had charmed them ; and they tarried 
long. 

Pearl longed to come unto her father-; but 
Ruby and Diamond had not gathered half the 
treasures which they wished to bring unto 
their home. 

One day Ruby came flushed with joy to 
Pearl, and bade her write unto their father, 
that Love ha d spoken such rich words unto her 
heart, that she would longer stay. 

"What is thy' message, Diamond?" said 
Pearl, brushing aside a tear. 

" Tell him the world is grand, and that I 
love it. Tell him that it bows to me, his 
bright-eyed child ; and that it sighs when I say 
I must depart. I love my father, and my 
home; but I do long to see a little more of 
this great world." 

" But you, Pearl," she said, as Diamond fin- 



an'allegoky of human life. 55 

ished her message, " has the world no charm for 
you?' 7 With eyes beaming with love, like 
dew on flowers, she replied, — 

" I love the world for what it does for hu- 
man hearts ; but I long to feel my father's arms 
about my form, and press my lips unto his 
brow. I shall return." 

" But your treasures, Pearl ; where are 
they ? shall you go empty-handed ? " 

" I have gathered them." 

" Show them to us," said Diamond and Ruby 
in one breath. 

" They are here," said Pearl, placing her 
hand upon her heart, and then upon her head. 

" I have learned that life is a great gift, and 
that the greatest treasure we can carry to our 
father is a heart unsullied by the evils of the 
world." 

" You have thought much for one so young," 
said Ruby ; " but I cannot bear to think that 
you must leave us. Perhaps I, too, may find 
that all is fleeting, and not worth the years of 
trial ; but dear, sweet Pearl, I have heard the 
voice of Love, it is so rich and mellow to my 
ears, I long to stay. I feel that I could revel 
years in such delight as this : do not leave us. 
Pearl ! " 



56 BRANCHES OF PALM. 

" I hear my father's voice, and I must an- 
swer it." 

" Do I seem wicked, Pearl, because I love 
to stay?" 

Pearl kissed her brow, and left a tear-drop 
on her cheek. Then on the mind of Ruby 
flashed the dream. She read the vision clear. 
The form that arose from the sea was Love, and 
the golden girdle was the cord that bound 
her to the earth. She had not strength of 
will to break from her pleasing captivity, and 
Pearl departed to her home alone. 

One day, just as the sun lay his golden oars 
across the waves, a ship was seen sailing to- 
wards the island. 

The old man sat upon the vine-wreathed 
porch as in days gone by. His white locks 
lay about his radiant brow, like snow upon a 
sun-tipped hill. His eyes were fixed upon 
the beautiful rays of the sinking sun. 

The waves came dancing to the shore, and 
by that he knew that some great ship had dis- 
turbed the glassy quiet of the sea. How 
merrily the waters rippled as the ship's keel 
broke through the waves, — rippled as though 
they knew the vessel bore the form of one 
whose voice had long been hushed. 



AN ALLEGORY OF HUMAN LIFE. 57 

The father rose with outstretched arms, and 
ran towards the shore, — a moment more, and 
father and child met in love's pure embrace. 

The evening shades drew on. The sun 
went down upon two happy hearts, no more 
to be made desolate by separation. 

The father gazed into the face of his fair 
child, and read the holy treasure she had 
brought, — " A heart unsullied by the world." 

That night in their evening orison, the 
wanderers' names were breathed in tender 
earnest words to heaven ; and prayer went up 
that holy guides might waft them safe home 
at last. 

We have all a Father's mansion and a Pa- 
rent's love, — a Father who does not willingly 
send us to the earth to gather truth and pre- 
cious gems of wisdom, but who, from his 
great height, can see that we must tread the 
thorny places and the desert land ere we can 
sense the glories of our heavenly home. 

Do we love the world for what it teaches 
human hearts ? or like the children linger amid 
its charms, forgetting that the years are rolling 
by, and we are gathering no jewels for our 
home ? 

When the golden ship of Death comes to 



58 BRANCHES OF PALM. 

bear our forms away, shall we be ready with 
our treasures in our hearts and minds, — ready 
to journey home ? 

Our Father waits to greet us beyond the 
sea of Death. When the waves break on the 
shores of the Life Eternal, he will come to bear 
us in his amis safe to our home. 



Sleep, blest refiner of the human soul! 
how we lose in thy sweet embrace the cares, 
the trials, of the day, and in their place gather 
new hopes, whose rays dawn on our morrow 
like the bright, warm sun. 

Blest purifier, without thee, how dense, how 
sordid, should we become ! carrying to-day's 
shadows over the golden bars of to-morrow's 
sunshine. 



The noonday sun is dazzling to our sight. 
'Tis the evening shade that gives to us most 
delicate beauties of earth's varied landscape : 
so adversity softens the glare of wealth, and 
gives us finer perceptions of life and human 
character. 



THE mother's vision. 59 



8fo posted W%$xtm. 

" Would that my work was done ! " said a 
poor child of earth, weary with the cares of 
life. " I wish that I could lie in my grave, 
and sleep the long, last sleep ; for I am tired, 
ah, so tired, of this toiling life ! " 

The heavy lid pressed down, a sense of 
faintness passed over her weary frame, and, 
lo ! the angel Death had taken her unto 
himself. 

Her spirit arose, and left its form of flesh. 
A strange, enchanting scene was presented to 
her wondering senses. A landscape fairer 
than earth could offer; woods arrayed in 
ever-varying colors ; murmuring brooks sing- 
ing on their way; mossy dells, amid whose 
deep verdure sat beautiful children, their 
happy voices ringing upon the air, caused her 
being to thrill with ecstatic joy ; for it brought 
to her fair children on earth who once cheered 
her with their merry prattle. 

Sitting beside a moss-clacl mound, wonder- 
ing at what her eyes beheld, a well-known 
form approached her. It was she whom, in 
happy childhood and in sorrow's hours, she 



60 BRANCHES OP PALM. 

had called "mother." How well she knew 
that face, that smile ! The years that had 
passed since she parted from her on earth 
seemed now but hours. 

" My mother ! " she was about to exclaim ; 
but, before the words could be expressed, the 
angel form had clasped her to her breast. 

" My sorrows and cares are all over at last," 
said the freed soul. " Dost thou not rejoice 
with me that they are, my mother?" And, 
fixing her earnest gaze upon her parent's face, 
she waited a reply. 

The mother looked long and tenderly upon 
her weary child, and answered not, but pointed 
to a group of lovely children playing by a 
silvery stream. Then, quick as the lightning's 
flash, came to her mind a thought of the dear 
children she had left on earth. 

" Alas, if they were only here ! " she said ; 
" then my bliss would be complete." 

Bliss ! Was it bliss that burst upon her 
soul, or a strange ecstatic joy which the scenes 
of the new life had awakened within her? 
New emotions came upon her each hour ; but 
she could not enjoy them fully, for something 
seemed to impress her with the idea that they 
were not her own. 



THE MOTHER'S VISION. 61 

" Why am I denied all this ? " she continually- 
said to herself. " Am I not released from flesh 
as all these are who are about me? They seem 
happy and free. What gulf is it that lies be- 
tween them and me? — a gulf I cannot pass." 

She sat and mused long and deeply. A 
form of high, transcendent beauty came and 
sat beside her, and took her trembling hand 
in his own. His features shone with a 
strangely pure and celestial light, — a beauty 
so exquisite, that she involuntarily cast her 
gaze into the brook to see whether her own 
countenance in any way partook of it. It did 
not, and she was disappointed ; for, in place 
of it, a cloud dark and unpleasant to look upon 
rested upon it. 

" I see now why I cannot mingle with these 
fair beings/' she said. " But why is this my 
fate ? Have I not toiled enough ? have I not 
borne enough of the heat and burden of life's 
day, to be entitled to this season of rest? or is 
it because I am not pure as they, that I cannot 
be with them?" 

The angel read her thoughts, and said, "Poor 
weary child, does thy soul feel a deep repose 
in our bright land ? Look calmly into thyself, 
and see." 



62 BRANCHES OF PALM. 

She sat and thought a while. 

" I do not know/' she at length replied. " It 
may be that all the wondrous things my eyes 
rest upon and my ears listen to have so 
enchanted me, that I cannot tell whether I 
have found repose or not." 

"Hast thou no attractions drawing thee 
earthward? no unfinished duties there thou 
shouldst perform? no deep yearnings to 
return ? " 

" I have dear and lovely children on the 
earth ; and were it not for them I should be 
happy here, and desire to remain in this fair 
land." 

" Then thou yearnest to return. Does that 
yearning deepen as you look upon the happy 
children here ? " 

A wild sob broke from the mother's heart, 
and she desired, oh, how strongly ! to clasp 
her dear children once again to herself. 
" Alas," she said, " how selfishly I wished to 
leave my cares and duties ! This lovely, 
heavenly land can be no heaven to me while 
I so wish to be on earth with my children." 

She bowed her head and wept, and, while 
she wept, the angel went away, and prayed. 

She heard the voices of happy ones around 



63 



her. She heard sweet music upon the air ; 
but she found no joy in these, for her soul 
longed to hear a sound of earth, — and that 
sound the joyous laughter of beloved children. 

Soon her mother was again at her side ; and 
with earnest gaze she looked up into her face, 
and asked why it was that she was not happy. 
The earnest look betrayed her depth of feeling, 
and the sincerity with which she longed for 
the bread of life. 

"My child, thy mission on earth was not 
finished. Thy children need thy earthly care 
and protection. Why shouldst thou ever desire 
to rid thyself of the work thy Father hath 
given thee to do ? Why seek to come to this 
land before thy Father called thee, and before 
thy labor on earth was done ? It was in an- 
swer to thy prayer alone that thou earnest, 
and not because thou could st not stay on earth 
longer to work God's will. This is why, amid 
all this happiness, thou art not happy." 

A face upturned, suffused with tears, looked 
for a moment upon the mother, then bowed 
itself, and wept. 

Ah ! thus it is we learn the lessons of life, 
when, tempest-tossed and weary, we turn our 
feet into duty's path. 



64 BRANCHES OF PALM. 

" Woulclst thou then, if thou couldst, return 
to earth and to thy children ? " said the mother 
in deep, pitying tones. 

"Return? Oh, tell me how ! But well I 
know there is no return. I am freed from 
earth-life, as I so often longed to be. It is all 
laid aside. Had not I wished it thus, it had 
not been ; but now, alas, 'tis too late, too late ! 
My dear, bereaved children, may Heaven be 
with you ! " 



" How long she sleeps, poor tired mamma ! " 
whispered, a little voice beside an outstretched 
form. 

" I'm tired; I want my mamma ! " said a lisp- 
ing one, who, grown weary with its play, sat 
listlessly upon the carpet, the shades of twilight 
playing with its eyelids. 

Up from the land of sleep the mother came. 
She opened her eyes, then closed them again, 
and, again opening them, scarce knew where 
she was. Strangely she gazed upon her chil- 
dren ; then, with a quick, convulsive start, she 
sprang to them, and clasped them all to her 
heart as she had never done before. 

Only an hour had passed since the wild mur- 



THE mothee's vision. 65 

mur of her heart revealed itself in words ; but 
what years of rich experience had been given 
her to realize in that brief interval, and gladly 
she accepted the lesson Heaven had given her 
in her dream. 

The shades of twilight lay about the room, 
a sort of setting for the jewel, Content, she had 
found. How sweet the rest that flooded her 
soul after its bitter, life-like experience ! So 
sweet and calm, that she cared not to break 
the spell ; and so she sat with her children in 
her close embrace, as securely as she in after- 
years enshrined them in her most tender, 
watchful love. 



Hope is an element of all great minds. 
The vision of the larger soul extends beyond 
the day, the hour. It sees through the dim 
vista of coming years, and twines its graceful 
foliage of hope over the ruins of time. 



Close, close to Nature cling ! Her paths 
may sometimes seem lonely, but they lead to 
God. 

5 



66 BKANCHES OF PALM. 



$0 <&\n %$ t# gwdM* 

We must bless if we would receive a 
blessing. We must pour the water from the 
cup if we would have it filled again. Life is. 
an exchange of bounties, a transfer from one 
hand to another. Earth gives her portion to 
the flowers, they send their fragrance unto 
man, and man gathers them, decks the path 
of friendship, and makes hearts sweeter with 
their rich fragrance. 

The sky is mellower for the passing cloud 
that lowers beneath it. The cloud receives 
its glory from the orb of day. 

All things are tributary to each other. The 
glow-worm lights a traveller's path : the peb- 
ble turns the tide. 

Bills fill the river : rivers send their vapors 
forth, and fill again the rills. If love flows 
from our soul unto our neighbor's, something 
must be dislodged within his breast. It may 
be envy, pride, or hate, — what matters it? 
or it may be sweetest strains of gratitude that 
will gladden some ear, though not our own. 
We are but workers, but not, like earthly 
laborers, waiting for our pay. It comes in 



TO GIVE IS TO RECEIVE. 67 

God's time, and always at the needed moment. 
Keep the waves in motion. Roll the ball of 
love heavenward. It will strike many hearts, 
and gather accelerated speed. Pass the cnp 
around. Bid the thirsty drink, for dust and 
mould will gather on the cup that stands un- 
moved; and the water it holds will become 
unfit for our own or another's use. 



Give largely, that thy soul may grow ; 

Give nobly, that thy life may flow 
In sweetest strains. 

Give all thou hast unto the poor ; 

Then, at the pearly gates of prayer, 
Knock, and thou shalt enter where 
The harvest plains 
Are white with grains. 



Trustful, I place my hand in thine, God ; 
for I am blind, and cannot see the way to thy 
great throne. 



Happiness is ours to-day or never. 



68 BRANCHES OF PALM. 



One eve, as the golden sunset 

Its splendor on all things shed, 
It crowned with beautiful halo 

Of light my darling one's head. 
Then she nestled her dimpled fingers 

In waves of the sunny light, 
While an angel drew the curtain 

Of earth from my mortal sight. 
And I saw another sunset 

More radiant, clear, and fair, 
Than eyes of the earthly pilgrim 

Oft see in this world of care. 

And there came a shining seraph 

From the fold of a happy band, 
Singing the name of my loved one, 

Giving me sight of a land 
Filled with the gems and the jewels 

Mothers once wore on their breast, 
Sparkling celestial in beauty, — 

Stars in the land of the blest. 
Then closer I pressed the darling, 

Till the light of her beautiful eye 
Passed from beneath my gazing 

To the ano-el fold on hm'h. 

A little mound in the churchyard, 
A deep, dark grave in my soul ! 

My darling went out in the starlight ; 
And the cold, cold billows roll 



THE LAND OF JEWELS. 69 

O'er my spirit sad and lonely, 

Now waiting its sunset time, 
When gladly it drops its clay robe, 

To pass to the jewelled clime. 

But, list ! 'tis a note of music, 

And beyond, a star-crowned light ! 
The angel has lifted the curtain 

Again from my earthly sight. 
I see my beautiful darling, 

She stands by the crystal tide ; 
And I would not call her earthward 

To sit again by my side. 
I shall soon go out to meet her, 

Soon clasp her unto my heart, 
And prize her a gem far dearer 

Because for a day we part. 



Who is happy ? He who hopes for better 
things, hopes that the world will wiser grow, 
and works to make it thus. 

Who has heights? He who descends to 
take a brother's hand, and leads him home to 
God. 

Who has angel comforters ? He who does 
angels' work, and the bidding of his Maker's 
word. 



70 BRANCHES OF PALM. 



"Let us build a temple," said a master- 
workman one day to a crowd of idlers who 
sat drowsily about the streets of a large 
city. Let it be high, strong, and beauti- 
ful ; surpassing in elegance the edifices 
around." 

11 For what purpose ? " said one who was 
gazing dreamily on the sky. 

" For the worship of our heavenly Father," 
replied the master. 

" But can we not praise and worship him in 
the open air as well ? " 

" We can : we may praise him at all times, 
for the heart is his holy altar ; but the temple 
shows to the world what our life is. It will 
be but the outer symbol of our hearts, and 
bear to the world the same relation that our 
body does to our soul." 

The laborers began to work. Eight cheer- 
fully did they toil for many days, gathering 
materials from remote places to build the 
temple. 

But one day one grew weary, and laid his 
tools aside, and sank wearily to the earth. 



THE TEMPLE AND ITS BUILDERS. 71 

Another sat by the roadside, and plucked 
flowers which grew within his reach, and tore 
them into fragments. Another followed his 
example ; and another, until a large crowd had 
gathered, and sat chatting in the same idle 
manner as when the master-workman first 
called them to their work. 

It was early dawn when he walked to the 
temple to note its progress, and saw, to his 
sorrow, so many of his laborers idly sitting by 
the road. 

" Why loitering here," he said, " when yon- 
der sun lights up the east ? " 

" We are weary," said one. 

" The work is going on so slow ! " said 
another. 

" There is more need of your labor then," 
said the master sorrowfully. " I long to see 
the temple finished, and am waiting to place 
the blue dome upon its top. I need, very 
much need, your help to-day : if you do not 
come, the work will be long delayed." 

One arose from the crowd and followed him ; 
but all the others idled the golden hours 
away, and when the sun went down they 
plodded slowly homeward. 

A crowd gathered about the unfinished 



72 BRANCHES OF PALM. 

temple one chilly day, and spake among them- 
selves. 

" Oh that the temple were finished ! " 

A form stepped quickly to the side of the 
one who spake with such deep regret, and 
said, — 

" Why dost thou wish the temple finished? " 

" Because .we have come to worship, and 
the chilly blasts drive us to protecting 
walls." 

" We have many costly gifts and orna- 
ments," said another, "with which to adorn 
it ; and we are sad to see it so far from com- 
pletion." 

« Why does it remain thus ? " asked one in 
tones of disappointment. 

"My workmen refused to labor," said the 
stranger, and departed. 

The crowd passed on. The rust and mould 
of time gathered on the walls, and it remained 
a crude, unsightly thing for every passer-by. 

There is a temple of Truth which the Great 
Master is building, and we are the laborers. 

How often we sink by the way, and refuse 
to work! 

The crowd are the seekers for Truth. We 
keep them waiting in the cold and chilling 



THE TEMPLE AND ITS BUILDERS. 73 

winds of Doubt and Distrust. The days go by : 
we sit and dream, while their golden hours 
glide on. The bright sun rises above us, 
and sinks to rest again. We sit with folded 
hands while the Great Master waits for our 
labor and the completion of the temple. 



What a free, full tide of gratitude will 
burst from our souls when we shall stand up- 
on the summit of all time, and see the reason 
why for us the fire and flood were needed ! 
What prayers of thankfulness will then arise 
to Him who cast the dross away that he might 
mould our crude form into the semblance of 
his own ! 



Each soul can walk where no other soul 
can go. There is a separate and a united 
power. 



There are some natures that bound our 
restless lives, and are to us what the shore is 
to the surging sea. 



74 BRANCHES OP PALM. 



Love them more tenderly than the young 
lambs. 

Pluck the thorns from their paths, and lead 
them gently through the twilight shades, for 
they have borne for us the heat and burden 
of the day. 

Cheer them with song and psalm as they 
march homeward. 

Pave their way with kind and loving 
words. 

Do these things until they go home, and 
need no longer the hand of flesh to cast the 
thorns away, and guide them gently down 
life's steep declivities. Sweet is the recollec- 
tion of any work well done ; but holy is the 
joy that comes over us, long after the aged 
forms are laid away, from a consciousness 
that no fretful words of ours broke the har- 
mony of their closing lives. 

In almost every home there is a pleasant 
memory of a mild, sweet face, smiling above 
the wreck which Time hath made, and looking 
over the billows to the blessed haven of peace 
so near at hand. 



THE AGED. 75 



Sweet to us will be the tides of memory 
that have within them no bitter waters. 

Pleasant will be the retrospective glance 
that looks down the vista of years and sees no 
wounded hearts of aged pilgrims strewn along 
the way. 



There are some faces which we meet in our 
daily life that seem to us like dear familiar 
friends, as though they had in some past time 
been called into a sorrow like our own, and we 
had met them in the deep waters. 



We have no strength only when we feel our 
weakness. High places are grand, but danger- 
ous. There is no warmth nor sunshine on 
them. The most beautiful flowers grow in 
the valley. 



God's image slumbers in our souls till sharp- 
edged grief cuts here and there, when, lo ! 
the semblance of his form appears sculptured 
by woes of time. 



76 BRANCHES OF PALM. 



I sat within a temple's holy walls, and 
looked with reverent eyes "upon the white- 
haired man who broke the bread and poured 
the wine ; for we were sitting at the supper 
of the Lord. 

I pushed the busy world aside, and all my 
earthly cares, as one would brush the dust 
from off his feet ere he entered a holy place. 
I felt my inner being kindle to a holy flame 
of love to God and all mankind. I felt my 
feebleness, and how unworthy was my soul of 
all the mercies of the past. The quiet still- 
ness of the hour, the deep low hush of humble 
souls in secret prayer, soon closed in my outer 
sense; and my inner sight beheld the busy 
world with all its varied scenes. 

I walked amid the throng, and saw in each 
human face another face shine forth. At times 
its features would gleam with heavenly rays, 
and then be clouded, just as the sun struggles 
to shine through the clouds. 

Through clouds of mortal sins and passion 
the Saviour's image broke. 

I sorrowed much that I could catch no 



THE SACRAMENT. 77 

clearer vision of that heavenly face, and passed 
along, watching with eager glance the busy 
crowd. I saw amid the throng a poor IJrail 
child. Her face was pale and wan ; and in her 
large blue eyes was seen the weary look of 
want. 

An old man, bowed with years, came leaning 
on a staff, and bent his ear to her sad tale. 
He put into her thin white palm some gold, 
and then passed on. 

I gazed into his face, and saw, all unclouded, 
the face of that divine and radiant One. 

He had broken the bread of life, and poured 
the cup of wine, and, lo ! the Master's face 
shone radiantly in his own. 

I wandered on, and gazed, with earnest, 
eager look, the heavenly face again to behold ; 
but clouds of passion and dark thoughts swept 
all heavenly trace away. 

The vision passed. I woke unto the outer 
sense, and heard these thrilling words break 
from the pastor's lips, — 

" As ye have done it to the least of these, 
my brethren, ye have done it unto me." 

I gazed upon the little group who sat so 
humbly there, and saw in all their features a 
glimpse of that fair face, — the image of their 



78 BRANCHES OF PALM. 

Saviour shining like rays of light through 
parting clouds. 



He is not blest who passes through the 
world with no great grief. The soul that 
sails on calm, still seas will never rise. ? Tis 
sorrow's surging wave that mounts us heav- 
enward. 



We must gather up the remnants of bliss 
that fall on us moment by moment, and weave 
them into an eternal raiment with which to 
clothe our spirits as we traverse eternity. 



The earth might as well say, when glowing 
in the golden beams of the sun, " See, how I 
shine ! " as for man to boast of the rays of truth 
which illumine his mind. 



To-day is a golden ray of joy ; to-morrow a 
cloud which we cannot penetrate. 



QUESTIONINGS. 79 



What are these clouds that lie 

So often on my path ? 
Only the shadow of the all-seeing One : 

Whose eye doth slumber not. 

Why are my feet so slow 

In going to my home ? 
Why do I backward stray 

When to me God says, Come ? 

Why drink at earthly founts, 

"When ever far on high 
Celestial rivers run 

That never, never dry ? 

Let me in patience walk ; 

For well I know the road, 
Though often dark and drear, 

Is winding up to God. 



Do we all enjoy alike ? No : each tempera- 
ment has its own absorption, and enjoys the 
beantiful according to its intensity and capa- 
city. 



80 BRANCHES OF PALM. 



4M in §M f&Mtffl. 

Mortal. Where is God ? and how shall I 
worship him ? 

Angel. Find him in the hearts he has given 
thee to love. Worship him in his works. 

Mortal. But that is earthly love, and car- 
ing for the things which perish. We are told 
not to place our affections on things that fade 
and die, are we not? 

Angel. Yes, unduly. We are not to love 
any one or any thing to idolatry ; but earthly 
teachings have been false in regard to the 
love of God, whose being fills all space, and 
who lives in every atom of his kingdom, which 
is the world. 

Mortal. What ! the world his kingdom ? 

Angel. Yes ; and every soul he has created, 
his temple. When you administer to a human 
woe or want, you are, for the time, a God to 
the individual. 

Mortal. Then I may freely love what he 
has created? 

Angel. Yes ; and all his works. Do you not 
see God in the sweet flower, as well as in the 
great ocean? When, gazing on his works, 



GOD IN ALL THINGS. 81 

your soul is filled with admiration, you are 
loving and absorbing God. 

Mortal. But if I love a human soul to almost 
idolatry, what then ? 

Angel. Then you are limiting the great 
Being who fills immensity, he whose glory is 
too great to be enshrined in one soul; and God 
in time will show you that you loitered upon 
your heavenly way. 

Mortal. I see. My vision grows clearer. 
God dwells in every thing. Each soul is an 
atom. Each flower, each tree, and blade of 
grass, are pulsations of his life. We must 
love the universe and every human soul. 

Angel. Or rather recognize the presence of 
that great Invisible in his works. 

Mortal. Shall we never see him face to 
face? 

Angel. Only through his works. We grow 
and go to him. He will descend each day into 
our hearts if we ask him for his love. 

Mortal. How may we know that love de- 
scends ? 

Angel. By holier thoughts and larger 
promptings in our hearts to bless mankind. 
His glory is so great it cannot be confined by 
selfish deeds. That which is pure is in motion, 



82 BRANCHES OP PALM. 

flows : all that is unclean stagnates. Look 
on yonder brook that flows so pure that it 
mirrors the blue sky ; so our souls, they must 
be pure that they may be clear, and reflect the 
image of our God. 

Mortal. I see. I must love, and give, and 
worship him in human souls. How near is 
heaven to earth ! Alas ! how long I've trav- 
ersed the wide world to find my God, and, lo ! 
he is at my side. 

Angel. And thus of every blessing, we stray 
abroad, journey long, to find that which lies 
in our path. All our needed blessings are 
close about our lives, encompassing us like 
air and sunshine. 

Mortal. Angel, I thank thee for thy words, 
which are like lamps unto my feet. In thee I 
see the image of my Maker. My life hence- 
forth shall be attuned to sweeter praise. 



If our surroundings were entirely to our 
tastes, we should* have no incentives to 
exertion. Gradually the mind would lose 
its vigor, and a lassitude pervade the entire 
being. 



EARNEST LIVES. 83 



Woek with a zeal and a purpose. Let the 
soul go forth in a full tide of love to all 
mankind, counting all men as brothers whom 
God appoints to walk in and about our 
paths. 

Labor diligently ; grasp every thought that 
will enlarge the soul, and prepare us for the 
eternal kingdom. 

Let no rust of selfishness corrode our lives 
away. If the temptation is great to turn 
aside, let the prayer be mighty, that our feet 
may be kept from the ways of error. Call 
largely on God, and he will largely descend 
and fill our cup to overflowing. 

Action and earnest effort are the steps to 
heaven. 

Unnumbered are the waves of joy that will 
break on our life-shores. 

If we cannot scale great heights ourselves, 
we can help others to ascend the mount. 

The kingdom is gathered by the hour ; rills 
make the river. We must gather and deposit 
every moment, that the great stream of love 
may be kept flowing. 



84 BRANCHES OP PALM. 

How large the sphere of the earnest, labor- 
ing soul ! How grand its orbit ! 

Laborer, God hath given thee a great gift, — 
the gift of life. Love, labor, and grow strong ; 
for the Lord that gave thee the gift holds the 
crown with which to deck thee at thy jour- 
ney's end. 



Deep natures contribute to the great ocean 
of life as rivers give to the sea, and are not 
impoverished in so doing. 



As we re-turn the pages of our life's history, 
we note upon the margin sad or heavenly ex- 
periences. 



A surging sorrow, which stirs the soul to 
its depths, is far better for us than a stagnant 
life of ease. 



The soul that is most attuned to harmony 
feels most keenly the discords of life. 



SHADOWS. 85 



" Great shadows all great images attend." 

A shadow lay upon my path one day, so 
deep I shrank affrighted at the darkness. 

" Oh, why this gloom and shade ? " I cried. 

A voice replied, " Look up." 

I turned my eyes from earth, and saw a 
heavenly shining form above, bending over 
me with flowers. 

" My presence made the shadows fall upon 
your path," the heavenly being said. " My 
mission is, to come to earth, and bear to sad- 
dened souls sweet flowers to cheer them on 
their way." 

" Forgive my weak and faithless heart. I 
waited long for some kind hand to bring me 
blessings, and grew weary; and, when the 
blessing came, I murmured at the shadow she 
who brought it cast upon my path." 

" Thy sorrows are many," the voice replied, 
and went on her heavenly way, and while de- 
parting said, — 

" Great joys are mingled with great griefs ; 
Great crosses bring great crowns." 



86 BRANCHES OF PALM. 



" Among the shepherds of Switzerland, when 
the pastures become scanty in the valleys, in 
order to induce the sheep to ascend the 
mountains where the herbage is sweeter and 
more abundant, the shepherd carries up a lamb; 
so doth our Father lovingly bear our lambs 
from the scanty herbage of earth to the ever- 
verdant and abundant fields of heaven, and 
soon we shall follow on." 

Mourner, let not the veil of fear and dis- 
trust fall heavily between thee and the Good 
Shepherd. Trust his love ; lean on his arm 
outstretched to bear you over the river. Love 
him whose tender mercies are over all his 
works. Wrap no dark doubt about thy soul, 
question not him whose protection is sure; and, 
when he gathers the lambs of thy little flock 
to himself, let this thought comfort thee, — he 
has taken them into his everlasting fold to 
dwell with him forever. 



Waves of sorrow lay jewels at our feet. 



THE EIYER. 87 



River, deep river, 

Where dost thou flow- 
Ever and ever, 

Solemn and slow ? 
Windest thou ever 

Gracefully so, 
Singing forever 

Deep-toned and low ? 

Goest thou ever 

Past fairy dell 
Where blooms the daisy, 

Violet, and bell ? 
Hast thou no secrets 

Hid in thy bed ? 
Hast thou no fair ones, 

Lifeless and dead ? 



Peaceful thy surface, 

Mild thy waves glide : 
Tell me, O waters ! 

Where clost thou hide. 
Treasures, rich treasures, 

We trusted to thee ; 
Have thy waves hid them 

In the blue sea ? 



88 BRANCHES OF PALM. 



River that floweth 

Solemn and slow, 
Where is my lily-bud, 

White as the snow ? 
Is she now sleeping 

Cold in thy bed, 
With wreaths of coral 

Twined round her head ? 



River, cold river, 

Solemn and low, 
Flowed on as ever, 

Graceful and slow ; 
But her waves murmured 

Softly to me, 
River has laid them 

In the blue sea. 



But on immortal shores 
Life-waves shall flow, 

Lily-bud, back to thee, 
Whiter than snow." 



There are some persons we meet with in 
life who seem not as pilgrims walking with us 
on our earthly way, but rather as messengers 
from heaven bearing us holy tidings. 



THE OLD AND THE NEW. 89 



WU ®U\ mut t\xt DUw* 

We die each day ; each hour some atom of 
our being goes down the silent stream ; each 
day some treasured thought is cast aside, and, 
lo ! we rise in bright and purer garments from 
the tomb of our dark imaginings. 

The swift evolving stream of time is ever 
bearing on its waves some treasure for our 
minds. We cannot seize the new until the 
old is cast aside. New temples cannot be 
reared until the old are destroyed. Our 
mortal bodies must first fall before our im- 
mortal bodies can be resurrected. 

Each day our spirit form unfolds. We mould 
it here by every thought and every deed. 

The flowers bloom bright and fair, accord- 
ing to the soil on which they grow. 

Our spirits grow majestic through our daily 
lives. No other state can make us blest if we 
carry not to it a soul worthy of a blessing. 



Affection, like a vine, creeps over a blight- 
ed heart, and makes it beautiful in death. 



90 BRANCHES OF PALM. 



Wxm in M? 

Where is God ? asks the restless soul, that 
dashes like the heaving sea, and longs to be 
at rest; where shall I find him? and where 
shall I seek the peace my soul doth so greatly 
long for ? 

On the mountain, in the storm, in the 
ocean's roar, by the leaping cataract, beside 
the rippling brook, in the tiniest flower that 
jewels the sod, in the love of childhood, — 
in all these, his voice is ever speaking unto 
thee. 

His throne is the world ; and they love him 
best who love his works most. Go forth and 
worship. Love thy child, thy neighbor, thy 
friend ; and in the degree that thou lovest them 
is thy love to God, for the waves of his being 
dash through human hearts. 

Worship him in the jewelled heavens. 
Praise thy Maker at morn and evening by 
gazing on the beauties of the rising and set- 
ting sun. 

His eyes of love look on thee from the 
smallest flower, from every point through all 
the grades of creation. 



WHERE IS GOD? 91 



In the lowliest form, his breath and being 
is. 

In the most wayward and erring, the divine 
spark burns, be it ever so dim. 

Therefore, when we turn from human wants 
and human cries for aid, we crucify our Lord ; 
for the divine and human are inseparable. 

Thy household, thy brother, thy friends, 
are atoms of divinity. How sacred becomes 
every soul when we feel that God breathes and 
lives in them I 

Language is powerless to paint the rich, 
fervid glow of joy that fills the human soul 
when it feels that all lives shall be gathered 
at last to the bosom of the Infinite ! 



All justice is not dealt by human hands. 
There is a higher form of equity than any of 
which the heart of man can conceive. 



This life is closely packed with joy. Sweet 
harmonies flow through the world, and all the 
elements of heaven are here. 



92 BRANCHES OF PALM. 



I saw a crowd of people standing by a lake 
whose pure waters laved a mossy bank. I 
stood apart with curious eye, and gazed upon 
the throng that dipped their vessels in the 
stream. 

Some had large misshapen urns which they 
filled. On some the dust was thick, and most 
unsightly to behold. 

One came, and in the calm clear lake dipped 
a vessel pure and white, and then departed on 
the great highway, and joined a traveller with 
a dust-soiled urn. 

"Why is thy vessel so covered with dust?" 
the bearer of the pure white urn inquired. 

The stranger said in low, gruff tones, 
" This is our form of worship ; for years, my 
people have drunk their water from this urn, 
and the dust is sacred in their eyes. It was 
upon it when their fathers drank, and they 
will not have it removed." 

"But see/' the stranger said, "how pure 
and white the urn beneath this coat of dust ! 
Does it not seem as though the water would 
be purer if the urn was washed ? ;? 



VISIOX OF THE WOESHIPPERS. 93 

11 But my people would not drink from it if 
I washed the dust away. It has been gather- 
ing there for years, and most ungodly and pro- 
fane would he be to us, who would dare 
attempt to wash it away." 

" They worship, then, the form, and not 
the spirit; they value the dust which 
rose from the march of their fathers' feet, 
and settled upon the urn above the pure 
clear waters of eternal life," the stranger 
said. 

" I am sad to see thee have no reverence 
for holy things," the pastor with the dust- 
soiled urn replied, and bore it speedily away 
as though the water might become impure 
from the stranger's irreverent words. 

He passed on, and soon was out of sight. 
.Another came up from the river's bank, bear- 
ing in his hand a large misshapen thing from 
which the pure clear drops were falling fast. 
The great drops of sweat ran down his face 
as he journeyed towards the temple where his 
people worshipped. 

" Behold ! my pilgrim," said the voice I heard 
before, "see ! thy vessel leaks ; the water will 
all be wasted ere thou readiest the temple. 
Why not cast the ponderous thing aside, and 



94 BRANCHES OF PALM. 

procure a vessel sound ; and more lovely to 
look upon ? " 

" Stranger/' the pilgrim said, " dost thou 
not know that this is the urn our fathers used, 
and that it would be heresy and profanation 
to cast it aside, and take another ? " 

" But it holds no water/' said the earnest 
youthful pastor. 

" That is not my fault. My duty is to 
bear my people water in the urn from which 
their fathers drank." 

" Why not repair it, and make it whole ? for 
thy people surely will find no drink within 
when thou readiest thy temple." 

"I see thou hast no reverence for holy 
things," the solemn pastor said. " Is it not 
said in holy writ that we shall take nothing 
from, nor add thereto ? Even though the ves- 
sel holds no water, I must obey the great 
commands ; " and he hastened onward, while 
the water fell at every step upon the ground. 

The young man sat and thought most earn- 
estly upon the follies of worshipping the past, 
and said unto himself, " My people shall have 
living vital truths, water fresh from yonder 
stream of life, borne unto them in a pure ves- 
sel, on which no dust of time has gathered." 



VISION OF THE WORSHIPPERS. 95 

While musing thus, another came, bearing 
on his head a massive urn, so heavy, that it 
nearly bowed him to the earth. 

" Why bear that heavy urn upon your 
head ? " the young man asked. 

The weary traveller gravely shook his head, 
and said, " Our burdens are not to be lightly 
borne unto the temple of our God. I teach 
my people that heaven is not so easily won, 
that we must endure the heat and burden of 
the day; but what hast thou in that small, 
white urn of thine ? " 

" I have water from the same pure stream. 
It is the water that my people want. They 
do not worship the forms or creeds of the dead 
past." 

" Ah ! " said the toiling, aged man, — " ah ! 
my young friend, you have departed from the 
good old ways ; you have broken your father's 
urn, and taken this light and toyish thing, in 
which to carry the waters of eternal life unto 
your people. Believe an aged pastor. Take 
warning, and beware ere it is too late. The 
gate of heaven opens not to those who bear 
not a heavy burden. Beware ! " 

His white locks waved in the wind around 
his head, and slowly he wound his toilsome 



96 BRANCHES OF PALM. 

way up the steep ascent on which his temple 
stood ; bearing the heavy burden on his head. 

" I also must depart unto my people," said 
the young man. But on the highway came 
another form, from which he felt his mind could 
reap another lesson ; for he was garnering all 
these truths to give unto his people. 

The form came bearing a vessel on a golden 
salver. His garments were woven of the 
finest texture, and fell in rich folds unto the 
ground. They trailed along the dust, and 
caused a thick and blinding cloud to rise from 
the earth ; while the dust lay thick and heavy 
on his rich garments. 

All the travellers on the road were blinded 
by the cloud. 

" And thus it must be of his hearers," the 
young man said unto himself. " He has no vital 
food to give, but blinds them with a cloud of 
forms and words. I will speak to him." 

"Thy garments impede thy way. This 
cloud of dust is terrible to all the travellers 
upon the road. Is there no better way for 
thee and thy fellow-pilgrims to walk unto thy 
temple?" 

" Traveller, dost thou know to whom thou 
speakest? Thou art in the presence of a 



VISION OP THE WORSHIPPERS. 97 

great high priest, who breaks the bread of 
life, and carries living waters to yonder 
temple, the dome of which thou seest reaching 
so high towards heaven. My people are rich 
and powerful. They offer incense, and lay 
costly gifts upon my altar. Wilt thou stand 
aside that I may pass on ? " 

" I, too, am bearing water from the stream. 
I have a little flock that gathers in a humble 
house of prayer. But see ! thy trailing gar- 
ments have thrown the dust upon my vessel. 
I must retrace my steps and wash it clean ; 
for I must not bear a soiled cup unto my 
people." 

" True, true, my pilgrim. Thou art young 
and meddlesome ; thou shouldst not have con- 
fronted one who walks to heaven another and 
a grander way than thine. Return and wash 
thy cup, and do not meddle with another 
priest, lest the dust that rises from his onward 
march descend upon thy urn." 

The priest passed on. The young man sat 
a while, and said, " Must I travel back through 
all this dust, keep my people waiting, and re- 
turn all soiled and worn into the house of 
God ? " 

I saw him sit beside the way, a look of 

7 



98 BRANCHES OP PALM. 

sadness gathering upon his happy face as 
clouds glide over the sun. I sighed ; for much 
1 loved his earnest, truthful face. I was about 
to rise, and go and comfort him with words of 
pity, when I seemed to be borne away by the 
passing breeze unto the temple where his 
people sat waiting. They had grown impa- 
tent at his long delay ; and one by one were 
passing from the temple. " Do not, oh, do not 
leave ! " I tried to say; but my lips were closed, 
and no sound went forth from them. 

I heard them say among themselves, " We 
will not longer wait. Why comes he not 
among his people ? " And soon the most 
patient and loving among his flock walked 
away. All departed, even those who had 
loved and confided in him the deepest, — all 
went out, and naught but silent walls were 
there to greet the weary pastor when he 
came. 

I longed to fly and comfort the lone des- 
erted man. I flew to where he sat; but, lo ! he 
had passed on. Up and down the highway I 
gazed, but saw only clouds of dust, that told 
me weary feet had passed on. 

I threw myself beneath a spreading tree, and 
soon another scene was opened to my sight. 



VISION OF THE WORSHIPPERS. 99 

I saw a temple large and beautiful, in which 
were gathered a great throng. The people 
sat expectant, waiting, as though some one 
was to come in their midst, and pour the 
water of eternal life from the pure crystal urn 
which stood upon the altar. Apart from the 
people, beneath the altar, sat three white- 
haired men whom the waiting people had 
chosen to select their pastor. 

One came, attracted by the beautiful temple. 

He walked the aisle with a majestic air, and 
stood before the altar. 

His garments were clean and spotless. No 
stain of dust was on his sandals, nor look of 
weariness was in his eye. All fresh and 
bright he seemed, and ready for the labor of 
the Lord. 

" Eeceive him, let him dwell among us ! " 
cried a chorus of voices. 

The white-haired men look steadily at the 
stranger, and then said, — 

" He will not do. He has no look of labor 
on his brow. No dust from life's great high- 
way rests on him. 

The stranger rose and left. Some followed 
him; but* patiently the larger portion of the 
people sat and waited. 



100 BRANCHES OF PALM. 

A few more came, but were rejected. The 
day was waning ; and the crowd grew weary 
and restless. 

The aged fathers looked toward the western 
sky, hoping to read some sign of promise 
there ; hoping that some one would come to 
break the bread of life unto their people. No 
sound of steps was heard, no sign of any form ; 
and they were about to close the temple's 
doors, and send the people home, when, lo ! a 
traveller stood in their midst, toil-worn, and 
covered with dust. On his brow was a weary 
look, and the eyes showed signs of long and 
earnest watching. 

His sandals were white with dust. 

He stood afar from the altar, just within the 
temple-door, and raised his eyes with reverent 
gaze unto the aged men. 

" He has come at last : this is the man ! " 
the aged fathers said, and raised their eyes in 
silent gratitude to heaven. 

" He has a laborer's look," they said unto 
the people. " He has been a traveller upon 
life's highway ; and on his brow the look of 
earnest prayer." 

The toil-worn man went forth unto the altar ; 
the white-haired fathers placed their hands in 



VISION OP THE WORSHIPPERS. 101 

benediction on his head ; and then I heard the 
people cry, " Allien." 

The vision was ended. In it I read a lesson 
deep, and full of meaning. 

I saw that he who traverses life's great 
highway must be covered with the dust of 
labor; and that he who bears these marks 
upon him will be received into the temple- of 
the Lord. 

The white-haired fathers represented the 
wisdom of the people* 

The little group, that grew impatient for 
their pastor's coming, and went forth from the 
temple, are those who grow despondent when 
our guides and teachers linger, forgetting 
there are truths that lie in realms beyond our 
sight, and that for these, while absent from 
us, they may be searching, soon to return 
laden with treasures for our souls, they could 
not find when at our side. I learned that he 
who humbly labors for the good of others 
getteth good for himself, and will find a place 
of rest at last. 

For our rest is where our labor is. 



102 BRANCHES OF PALM. 



§wx$xty tf£ Writ* 

Man is composed of many mountain thoughts ; 
of rolling oceans of sorrow and doubt : of calm, 
green valleys of peace and happiness. 

And we are but pilgrims over our own 
spirit-globe ; sometimes on the mighty cliff, 
looking forth with wonder and joy on the 
majestic scenery ; at others, like voyagers on 
the ocean, our souls tossed by the waves, 
sickened with the motion of life, worn with 
the angry tempest that threatens to dash our 
bark into pieces. Anon we reach the green 
valley of the soul, safely landed from a voyage 
over the great ocean of despair. How fragrant 
the bud of happiness ! ? Tis then we can pluck 
flowers of love, and worship the hand that 
made them ; ; tis then we see the bright tints 
of life, — see that it is not all rocky cliff, 
cataract, and angry ocean, but partakes of 
calm sunshine, of peaceful fields, and valleys 
of repose. 

But we are voyagers of life, and cannot 
always remain in the vale. We must pluck a 
flower, put it in our bosom, and go forth again 
to be dashed by the wild waves that shall 



DIYEESITY OF LIFE. 103 

bound us upward to meet the stars, whose 
brilliancy we shall catch, and sink again, but 
with more of heaven's eternal light upon our 
brow. 



What soul has yet fully embarked on the 
ocean of God's love ? 

What voyager has gone out to number its 
waves, or count the drops that form the un- 
fathomable sea of his glory ? 

Earth's children have as yet but tasted of 
that boundless existence in which their souls 
are immortal. 

Where is the soul that has learned of God's 
justice ? 

What bright angel has yet found out the 
glorious equanimity that reigns with divinity ? 

How he holds the universe ! 

What soul has scaled the towering heights 
of his wisdom? counted the avenues of his 
glory, or the pathways of knowledge that lead 
to his throne ? 



The most active man is he who waits on 
God. 



104 BRANCHES OF PALM. 



mu (&m tut §amn%: ^ wmm 

He lay in a dark, cheerless room, while the 
shades not only of an external, but of a spir- 
itual night were gathering around hirn. 

Alone, sick, and friendless, wasting with dis- 
ease ; no one to sooth his dying hour ; no voice 
of love to fall in loving accents on his ears. 

The pain which was crushing his vital 
powers was only equalled by the great sor- 
row which lay upon his mind and conscience. 

For years he had lived only to gather gold, 
to add treasure to treasure ; and now it lay a 
useless heap, and a curse unto himself. 

He closed his weary lids, and tried in vain 
to sleep. Slowly the hours dragged on, and 
the room grew more dark and cheerless. At 
last a sluggish feeling came upon him. He 
slept, and saw himself, as in early life, when 
first the love of gain seized his soul. 

He seemed to be walking in a beautiful 
garden, which represented the world. Beside 
him were friends, whose smiling faces shone 
upon him like morning sun-rays, and whose 
happy laughter made all his pulses beat with 

joy- 



THE GOLD THAT PERISHETH : A VISION. 105 

They were gathering flowers, when sud- 
denly a bright pebble which lay in his path 
attracted his attention. He stooped and 
picked it up ; then another and another, until 
they were so numerous, he left his friends, sat 
upon the ground, and labored to gather them 
till the evening shades began to fall. 

Then, for the first time, he looked up for his 
companions ; but they had gone on their way. 

In vain had they called him to follow them; 
but his attention was so absorbed, he neither 
saw nor heard them. He tried to rise, but, lo ! 
he had bent so long upon the ground, that he 
could not. He called loudly. In vain : his friends 
heard him not ; for they were far on their life 
journey. He gazed long and earnestly in the 
direction whither they had gone, and saw, far 
in the distance, on a gently sloping hill, the 
friends of his once happy hours. He had 
gathered only stones, while they had culled 
beautiful flowers, and were weaving them 
into crowns of happiness with which to deck 
their brows. 

He tried again to rise and join them, alas ! 
the heavy, glittering stones weighed him 
down : he could not rise. He called implor- 
ingly for them to come. The cry awoke him. 



106 BRANCHES OF PALM. 

The death-dew had gathered on his brow ; and 
soon angels of mercy bore him over the river 
of death. 

The heavy stones were the gold which kept 
him all his life from all social and spiritual 
enjoyment. The flowers which his friends 
gathered were the beautiful truths of life, 
which became to them crowns of happiness. 

How many linger in the sphere of sordid 
gain for transient enjoyment, while their 
friends pass on to scenes and homes of endur- 
ing bliss ! 



In times of storm, those ships are safest 
that are in deepest waters, and far from shore : 
so in times of great affliction God keeps us 
from the shore of fond familiar scenes, far from 
human aid, that we may learn to look only 
unto him, and trust his guidance. 



There are monarchs sleeping in rough 
and common clay, who, when the world needs 
their power, will come forth, sceptre in hand, 
to lead the nations. 



FRIENDS. 107 



Friends are scarcely worthy of the name 
untill they have proven themselves such 
through our sorrows. 

Flowers bloom in the sunshine and warm 
air; trees unfold their leaves in the balmy 
breath of spring : but a friend, whose smile 
breaks through our clouds of sorrows and 
adversity, and shines upon our path, is worth 
a thousand who flutter around us when the 
light of prosperity burns bright. 

He who can go down with us into the night 
of sorrow, and watch with us till the dawn, is 
alone worthy of the heavenly name of friend. 

All lives are full of surges of great joys and 
sorrows. "We need a friend to help us bear 
them all ; and he who shuts the door of sympa- 
thy upon a true and worthy one will have 
more tears to shed, and darker hours of grief 
to experience, than if the loving hand could 
have poured some balm into the cup of woe. 



Nature is the infalliable Word of God, 



108 BRANCHES OF PALM. 



§mw$. 

Beautiful soul-lit dreams, 
Giving us wandering gleams 

Of the land that lies over the way ; 
Out from the line of our sight, 
Dazzling, supernal, and bright, 

Over the waves of day. 

Grateful shadows of night 
Draping the gold lines of light 

That fall from the pathway of day, 
Gladly we yield to them all ; 
We welcome the shades as they fall 

Over the twilight gray. 

Oh ! but for shadows of night 
Ne'er would the spirit catch sight 

Of beauties that lie over the way : 
Out on the wave lines of sleep 
We float o'er the misty deep, 

And rest on their golden spray. 

Oh, sweet, meandering dreams ! 
Winding by cool sylvan streams, 

So unreal, and changing alway ; 
Yet would our lives be more drear, 
Could not these dream-lives appear 

To mellow the harshness of day. 



IN THE SPIRIT-LAND. 109 



A burning fever coursed through my veins. 
Sharp and fearful pains darted through my 
head, till I seemed to be no more on earth, 
and my soul passed the great portal of death. 

I knew not the precise moment, any more 
than we know when we pass from our waking 
condition into that of sleep. I only remem- 
bered my last throb of pain, and my first con- 
sciousness of another life. 

I was conscious of being wafted through 
the air, and lifted by strong arms, till I was 
conveyed to a resting-place. 

When I felt strong enough, I opened my 
eyes, and encountered the gaze of a pair of 
loving orbs bent on me with a kind look of 
recognition. They were my mother's. I knew 
them at a glance, though many years had 
elapsed since the hour when we parted. 

" Look ! " she said. I arose from the couch, 
and for the first time gazed upon my spirit- 
form, which I saw mirrored in a clear lake be- 
side which I was reposing. I started. It 
was like my earthly form in outline, but so 



110 BRANCHES OF PALM. 

unlike it in expression, and shades of beauty ; 
for no other term can express my meaning. 
It was far more beautiful than I could ever 
have hoped to be. I gazed long and earnestly, 
until I felt weary, when my mother laid me on 
the couch again ; and I seemed to sleep. 

I saw my earthly body lying pale and still 
upon the bed ; but I felt a desire to return to 
it no more than one does to wear again a cast- 
off garment. 

How I longed to tell them on the earth 
how free from pain I was ! I grew strangely 
weary at that moment. My mother, who sat 
beside me, woke me from my dream or vision ; 
and when I told her what I had seen, and how 
weak I grew, she said the weariness was 
caused by my being in the atmosphere of my 
earthly body. 

" Think no more of that at present," she 
said, " and arise from your couch, and tell me 
what new sensation comes to you.' 7 

I arose. All sense of weariness was gone. 
I found that my body could move simply by 
an act of my will, but without any physical 
exhaustion like that we experience in the 
earth -life. I was so pleased and occupied 
with this new sensation, that I did not notice 



IN THE SPIRIT-LAND. Ill 

the approach of a large group of friends who 
had come to welcome me. 

"We waited for you to obtain some rest 
before we bade yon welcome to this heavenly 
land/ 7 they said. 

I recognized voices of old and familiar 
friends. I looked, and knew them all. Each 
one came to me, and gave me a warm and 
earnest welcome. My pulses began to leap 
with the throbs of a new life. 

" How soft and balmy this air is ! " I said. 
" Is it always so lovely here ? " 

u In the external it is always the same," one 
said ; " but we have persons here who bring 
many shadows, and through whom we all suf- 
fer at times." 

I looked eagerly towards them all. 

" You will learn a lesson every day," said 
my mother, who had not for a moment left my 
side ; and then I noticed what I had not before, 
— that a light enveloped her form radiant and 
lovely, and that the same light shone around 
a portion of my own body, rising only to the 
shoulders. 

" When that light rises to your brow," said 
my mother, reading the current of my thoughts 
with a precision and accuracy which aston- 



112 BRANCHES OP PALM. 

ishecl me, " you will see all truth as clearly 
as I do; but you must progress much more 
before it rises to the head." 

" How lovely this world is ! " I cried, as I 
gazed around upon the richest and most va- 
ried landscape that ever human eye looked 
upon. " How much there is to enjoy ! " 

" Thou hast experienced but an atom of its 
joys," said my mother : and, taking me by the 
hand, she led me into her home ; for all have 
homes as on earth, all things on earth being 
but types of this fair world. 

She led me into a room surpassing in beau- 
ty, and harmony of arrangement, every thing I 
had ever seen. The two windows, which 
opened on a vine-wreathed portico, were 
draped with lace of the whitest and daintiest 
fabric, looped with flowers. In the centre of the 
room stood a marble basin in which a fountain 
was playing, its waters falling upon flowers 
from which a most entrancingly delicious fra- 
grance was continually arising ; the air chan- 
ging both in quality and kind every moment. 
Lounges of most inviting form were about the 
room. I noticed a beautiful vine-wreathed chair 
which sat before a low table, on which were 
strewn books, and wreaths of flowers. It 



IN THE SPIRIT-LAND. 113 

seemed as though the occupant had just left 
it. My mother looked tenderly on me as I 
stood with eyes riveted to that seat. There 
was a white velvet cushion beside it on which 
were wrought leaves of ivy. At that moment 
there came gliding into the room, I could not 
tell from what point, a young and lovely child. 
She came and stood by the fountain. I never 
remembered to have seen her on earth, and 
yet I felt a strange vibration through all my 
being as I looked upon her. She had the 
sweetest eyes that ever mortal gazed upon, — 
eyes of heavenly blue. You felt no need of 
speech ; for those liquid orbs told all. She was 
a being made to love, and be loved. 

" Whose lovely child is this ? " I said, while 
a strange tremor shook my frame. At that 
moment I felt my mother's hand upon my 
eyes. I sank upon a couch and slept, and 
yet it was not sleep. 

I saw myself, as in years gone by, lying on 
a bed of pain. How well I remembered that 
| day ! for I had given birth unto a child, a tiny 
form that never breathed on earth. How well 
I remembered the sorrow that wrung my 
heart then, that I should never see her loving 
eyes, nor hear her voice ! Silent and still ! 



114 BRANCHES OP PALM. 

How the question came to my heart. Where 
had the little being fled? — or had soul and 
matter no affiliation at such times ? Instinc- 
tively I treasured the thought that there must 
be a soul for all organic bodies ; but it was 
only a dim, visionary thought : I could not 
make it real. I awoke, and saw my mother 
smiling lovingly upon me. Slowly broke the 
great truth on my mind ; but it came, like all 
truths, with the force which leaves no doubts, 
no questions : and then I knew the fair-eyed 
child was mine. A deeper light was in her 
eyes as she came towards me, and, press- 
ing her sweet lips to mine own, called me 
" mother." 

A deep maternal thrill pervaded all my be- 
ing. I trembled under the waves of joy that 
rushed over me. 

With that little hand clasped close in mine, 
we roamed over the beautiful garden that 
day. She gathered the choicest flowers for 
me, and made them into wreaths for my brow. 
How the touch of her soft lily hand thrilled 
me through and through ! Oh that I could 
tell my new-found joy to my friends on 
earth ! 

I gained new strength each day, and each 



IN THE SPIRIT-LAND. 115 

day experienced some new sensation. Oh 
what joy for me to live in such a world, and 
one of which I longed to know more ! 

One day, I saw coming towards me a form 
of the most beautiful symmetry. The face was 
familiar ; but the form I could not recognize. 

I sat beside a brook gathering pebbles with 
my child, when he approached us. 

In a voice low and sweet, he said, " Wel- 
come, fair lady, to our land ! " 

I held my hand towards him, and, seeing no 
look of recognition, he said, " Dost thou not 
remember me ? " 

" I do not. Did you live on earth? " 

" I am the little cripple to whom you gave 
bread and shelter one cold cheerless night." 

I clasped his hand, and pressed it warmly. 
" And now so beautiful 1 " I involuntarily 
exclaimed. 

" Truly a world is glorious," I thought, " that 
transforms all unpleasantness of form and fea- 
tures into such loveliness." 

What a feeling of pleasure came over me 
at seeing him thus changed ! I remembered 
how many cold days on earth I had seen him 
pass my home, his very frame bent with labor, 
and a look of thoughtful sorrow on his brow ; 



116 BRANCHES OF PALM. 

for he had no home. The work-house was his 
only shelter. 

" Come and sit by me/' I said, " and tell 
me of this land." Just as he had seated him- 
self, a form most unlovely to look upon passed 
by us. 

" What means it?" I eagerly inquired. " I 
thought all were lovely here." 

" Not so," he said. " This person on the 
earth was fair and lovely ; but his thoughts 
and deeds were sinful. He had no purity 
within." 

" Will he carry this unpleasant form for- 
ever ? " I asked. 

" No : it will change as his thoughts grow 
pure and holy, and he has repaired, as far as 
human power can, all the wrong of his earthly 
life. This is his first duty ; and he is obliged 
to be in the atmosphere of earth every day, 
in order to do it. This is a law of the soul's 
progression : none can escape it." 

" You know much of this life," I said ; for I 
felt I had a teacher in the once friendless, 
forsaken child. 

" Will you tell me," I asked, " how it is 
with those who have no congenial tastes ? Do 
they have to live together here ? " 



IN THE SPIRIT-LAND. 117 

"No. For all are in freedom, yet not abso- 
lute ; for those to whom we mast impart 
strength and life must, for a time, be associated 
with us, but not continually : it is only at in- 
tervals. On earth we have to be every day and 
hour with those we can never assimilate with : 
here it is only in brief periods ; and the thought 
that we are imparting to them makes it pleas- 
ant rather than otherwise." 

" You have given me light," I said. " What 
can I do for you ? " 

" Only this, fair lady, — impart the light thou 
hast unto others, and new and fresh strength 
will flow to thee." 

He was gone, — the child - teacher. I 
watched him until out of sight. I prayed 
that I, too, might become life and light to 
others. 

As time passed on, I longed more and more 
to convey to my friends on earth some knowl- 
edge of the beautiful world I was in. 

I tried at times to draw near to them, and 
then I felt a strange, discordant feeling come 
over me. 

My mother told me it was the condition of 
the minds of my friends ; they were not harmo- 
nious; that it took a long, long time to be able 



118 BRANCHES OF PALM. 

to impress those whose natures were not spir- 
itually inclined. 

" How you must have labored for me ! " I 
said. She did not reply in words, but drew 
me tenderly unto her. 

As I grew more and more enraptured with 
the scenes about me, I longed deeply for 
the power of words to paint the external beau- 
ties of that world : landscapes of such varied 
beauty ; rivers, lakes, and seas of every tinge, 
and changing every moment ; birds of every 
form and color; flowers rare and delicate ; fruits 
cool and luscious to the taste ; houses of such 
delicate and rare construction ; forms clad 
in garments of ethereal beauty, and wrought 
with elegant devices ; friendship of high 
and holy order, with no taint of earthliness ; 
each doing for another ; none self-centred, but 
all in divine order and harmony, — no wonder 
that I longed to transmit the joys, and to tell 
the children of earth how much they had to 
live nobly for ! 

This feeling at times deepened into a pain. 
Amid all that loveliness and my new-found 
joys, the thought that I might help the chil- 
dren of earth to lead better and holier lives 
haunted me, until, one day, my brain grew 



IN THE SPIRIT-LAND. 119 

dizzy ; and I longed for a deep repose, a rest 
from all this keen enjoyment. 

I threw myself languidly within the shade 
of a large tree, and, clasping my darling's hand 
in mine, I fell into a sleep. I seemed suddenly 
to be drifting away. I felt the little hand 
loosing its grasp, but had no power to hold it. 
With one great effort, I reached forward to 
clasp her to my heart. I had not power to 
move. I moaned loudly, and awoke on earth. 

" Thank God ! the crisis is past," I heard 
the physician say to my husband and friends. 
" Her reason is restored, and she is safe." 

The words fell harshly on my ears. What 
had happened ? Where had I been ? Had 
years passed since I was seized with that 
dreadful pain ? I looked eagerly from one to 
another. 

" You have been delirious ten days," they 
said ; and the tears coursed down their weary, 
watchful faces. 

I thank God not only for the deep lesson 
which I to this day believe was given me from 
the other life, but that I was alive on earth, 
but better prepared to live a life of usefulness, 
and teach others how to obtain peace and 
rest here and hereafter. 



120 BRANCHES OF PALM. 



Let us be of use in thy great kingdom, 
Lord. We would not be cast aside like 
worthless tools, although, in our short-sighted- 
ness, we murmur when our song should be 
one of praise. Could we fathom thy designs, 
how jubilant would be our feet! how gladly 
should we obey thy every call to labor ! 

But as years glide on, and we learn that he 
alone is blest who works, we long to be of use j 
and our soul's most earnest cry to heaven, is, 
Show me the way to the vineyard ! 

Let me be a laborer in thy kingdom, and a 
help unto thy hand. 



We are told, that, since the creation of the 
world, not one particle of matter^ has been 
lost : so every human deed of goodness may 
float away into the moral world, like vapors 
from the earth, and be transformed and come 
again, perhaps a flower to cheer the weary, 
perhaps a drop of dew to moisten a parched 
and burning life. 



THE ADVENT OF THE ANGELS. 121 



A teacher, high, sublime, and holy, came 
into our midst one golden morning. 

He stood with eyelids drooped in prayer : 
with tear-drops trembling on them, like morn- 
ing dew on flowers. 

He prayed that the children of earth might 
be born to the principle of Love. 

The rustling of his garments was like 
music ; the tones of his voice, like the lute at 
eventide. 

As he prayed, the damp dew gathered on his 
brow, and his prayer was, '" Our father who 
art in heaven, let the children of earth have 
more light. Send unto them, our Father, 
angels." 

A divine radiance shone around his brow. 

His soul grew calm, and he ascended out of 
sight. 

Then, from beneath the cloud, a band of an- 
gels came, and broke forth in songs seraphic ; 
and the burden of their song was, " Give 
light to earth ; give love to its children." 

And then dawn broke upon the earth. 



122 BRANCHES OF PALM. 

They that had wept through the night 
dried their tears ; for, lo ! their loved ones, 
those who had gone out in the twilight, stood 
forth on the day's horizon with messages and 
words of love. 

New light flooded the earth. 

The departed re-appeared, clothed in shining 
garments, bearing truths of life and immor- 
tality. 

Voyagers who had anchored in dark 
streams now had angel pilots to guide their 
barks into havens of rest. 

Around the heads of aged sires where rest- 
ed the snows of many winters, the angels 
bound wreaths of fresh-grown buds of hope. 

Widows and orphans wiped away their 
tears; for the swift messages of love came 
like heavenly baptisms to their souls. 

Little gems that were lost from parents' 
bosoms appeared reset in brighter efful- 
gence. 

Up and down the earth they went, till 
the mortal sky was all aglow with immortal 
day. 

A few of the children of earth slept, and, in 
their dreams, cried out, "It is not day : we see 
no light. Ah, foolish ones! back to your slumbers^ 



THE ADVENT OF THE ANGELS. 123 

and let us rest." They will not awake till mid- 
day ; and the first glory of this great dawn of 
spiritual light they will never behold. But 
they who rose at the dawn will rehearse to 
them the glory of its light. 



We live a life within, of which the great 
world knows not ; a life made up of a round 
of joys and sorrows in a world all our own, — 
a world on whose shores no feet but our own 
do ever walk, and within which no sound is 
heard save the surging waters of our own ex- 
istence. The blue arch that spans that world 
is the eye of the all-seeing One, who smiles 
on all our victories over self, and drops tears 
of pity on our weak, frail thoughts. 



Hidden wings, slumbering genius, will 
some day burst their fetters. God in his own 
time will show us the image he has sculptured; 
and we shall find that that upon which we 
first gazed was but the rough material with 
which he fashioned his great work. 



124 BRANCHES OF PALM. 



®U State*'* (£mm. 

An angel sat beside a beautiful stream in 
heaven, weaving a coronet for a sad and weary 
form on earth. 

The flowers were rare and lovely : but two 
buds only were lacking to complete its won- 
drous beauty and harmony. 

She laid aside the wreath, and traversed 
hill, dale, and field, to no purpose. " Alas ! " 
she said, as she returned, " I fear that I must 
gather them from the earth. The coronet 
must be completed ; for it is not long before she 
for whom it is woven will lay aside the mortal, 
and join us here." 

The angel descended. It was night. Cold 
and dreary were the winds that swept over 
the earth. 

In a humble home a fire burned dimly upon 
the hearth, and before it sat a mother and 
her two children. They were fair and lovely 
to look upon ; too fair for earth. 

" It chills my heart to take them," said the 
guardian angel, as she looked upon the little 
group ; " but God's work must be done. 



THE mother's coronet. 125 



She will soon follow, and then her sorrow will 
be turned to joy." 

The careful mother felt a strange thrill 
pervade her being, as she laid her darlings in 
their bed that night. She thought that the 
night winds sounded strange and fearful. A 
sense of alarm seemed to fill her being. The 
blasts grew colder towards the dawn. 

The mother slept, and dreamed that the 
snow fell on the bed of her little ones, and 
covered them from her sight. She thought 
she sat sadly by them and wept ; when, sud- 
denly, a bright ray pierced the clouds, melt- 
ed the white covering away, and, lo ! two 
fair lilies bloomed sweet, and full of fra- 
grance. 

She awoke, and stood beside her babes. 
The angel had taken them home ! The frost 
and snow of death had fallen upon them in the 
night. 

She wrung her hands with grief. Great 
sounds of agony burst from her lips. 

What voice can soothe sorrow like hers ? 
Is there a balm to heal such wounds ? 

Alone, sadly and silently, she 'trod the re- 
maining portion of her life-path on earth. All 
her treasures were gathered home, and one 



126 BKANCHES OF PALM. 

day she lay down upon her couch, and sank 
into the sleep of death. 

The coronet was done, and waiting for her 
brow. 

The angel placed it there when her spirit 
was separated from its clay, and led her 
gently to a couch to rest. 

" My babes, my beautiful lilies ! v was the 
first utterance of her soul in that heavenly 
land where partings never come. 

She read the lesson of her Father who had 
kindly called her babes before her to his up- 
per mansion. 

The coronet shone with a heavenly light, 
as she walked those streets celestial ; and the 
fragrance of the lilies, gathered so early from 
all the trials of earth, was sweeter to the 
mother than any words of angel or mortal 
could ever portray. 



The waves of life place gems of rarest 
beauty at our feet. We gather them with 
gladness, forgetting that they were thrown 
there by surges of sorrow that well-nigh in- 
gulfed us. 



SOUNDS FROM OYER THE WATERS. 127 



How refreshing and pleasant it is to stand 
on a summer's day, see the waves break along 
the shore, and listen to the sound of the wa- 
ters as they dash over the rocks ! 

But more beautiful and refreshing is it to 
feel on this great life-shore the waves of ce- 
lestial seas breaking on our parched and bar- 
ren life, and to listen to the murmuring of an- 
gels' voices far out on the waves, whispering 
to us of the beautiful land far over the sea. 

If summer's suns and heat oppress us, and 
the long days make us sigh for cooling streams 
and flowing tides, how much more does the 
scorching sun of trial and adversity make us 
long to lie where the waters of a spiritual 
life will break over us ! 

On the shores of our earthly life, these wa- 
ters are breaking. There lies a great sea be- 
fore us filled with gems. 

Shall we gather them, and listen to the 
music of the whispering waves ? or sit in bar- 
ren and sultry places, sighing for waves of 
joy to break over the stony places ? 



128 BEANCHES OF PALM. 



We must grope in darkness. The light of 
heaven does not come down in great floods 
upon our path. 

The human soul must work in darkness, 
and put out in the evening shadows the 
hand of faith. It is then we feel the need of 
earnest prayer : then the soul senses all its 
dependence on the Divine ; and, like a child 
who has wandered from his father's home, we 
cry out for some one to come to our assist- 
ance. 

But when the day dawns, and over the hill- 
tops we discern the sun of prosperity, what a 
feeling of self-reliance vibrates through our 
being! How light seem all life's burdens 
then ! Not in the morning light, or in pros- 
perous days, is the soul wont to call on God : 
it is in the night of sorrow that our cry goes 
up to heaven. 

Ah ! if we could ever be near to God. It is 
going from him that makes our night. And 
as no light dawns on the earth till it turns sun- 
ward, so no joy and peace will fill us till we 



TRUST. 129 



turn to the central light and life of the great 
universe. 



man, wherever thou art, learn God in 
his works ; then shall thy soul be filled accord- 
ing to its own expansion ; then to each day 
shall be given " daily bread/' spirit food, and 
you shall not be led into sin or " temptation." 

" From all evil," his hand of goodness and 
wisdom shall " deliver us ; " for, in seeking him, 
we know no path but beauty. 

Then in fulness of heart and soul, we can 
say, " Thine is the kingdom," thine the last- 
ing " power ; " and the universe shall echo 
" Glory forever. Amen." 



All have their garden of Gethsemane : 
on each soul has fallen the midnight dew. 

None can save us from suffering. Not even 
the dearest can lift the curtain of our grief, or 
quench the fire that burns our dross away. 

We are alone with God in the dark hours. 

When shall we learn to kiss the rod, and 
bless the hand that doth baptize us ? 

9 



130 BRANCHES OF PALM. 



Listen, soul ! Take hours of rest, and 
turn the retrospective glance down life's 
stream. Listen to the beatings of thy heart, 
and see if they are deep, and pulsing for hu- 
man woes. Look carefully down the years, 
and see if thy human weaknesses have given 
place to holy thoughts, if idols of clay have 
been broken, and in their place is reared 
the image of the Holy One. 

Glance faithfully, and see if thy soul has 
grown more sensitive to the footsteps of the 
unseen, who walk our earth each day, gather- 
ing and scattering truths. 

Lay aside thy earthly cares, and let a holy 
hush and calm descend upon thy soul, as dews 
descend upon the flower. Let down the cur- 
tain and shut off from thyself the glitter of 
earthly gain ; repose in the twilight of medita- 
tion. Compass thy soul. Gaze long and earn- 
estly into thy heart, and see how many sins 
lie smouldering there, impeding thy souPs 
progress. Let the light of new truth, gleam 
down the silent stream. 

Relight the vale, and then shalt thou know 



RETROSPECTION. 131 



what thy joys are to-day , and what thy cause 
for grateful heart-offerings. Lean on the 
years, and listen; then gather courage from 
thy onward course, and make thy morrow bril- 
liant with holy deeds. 



All that Deity hath crowned thee with 
restore to him. 

Bring not to his sacred altar an empty life. 
Restore to him with usury each talent he has 
given thee. Train high every faculty he has en- 
dowed thee with; culture it to the highest point 
of thy capacity ; reflect not on his wisdom by 
leaving them uncultured, for it is his love that 
has placed them there. 



When a gardener sees an unsightly tree in 
his grounds, he does not go rudely to work, 
and cut it away, but carefully trims its 
branches, and prunes it into shape. So our 
heavenly Father cuts away our deformities, 
and gently, very gently shapes us into come- 
liness, 



132 BRANCHES OF PALM. 



^\xt (&zm mi Wxntlx. 

" My children/' said an aged -man unto a 
group who sat weary by the water's side, " in 
yonder sea lies a gem so clear and transparent, 
that it mirrors the heavens and all the starry 
orbs. To whoever will search for it, and bring 
it to me, I will give the world and its posses- 
sions." 

" But, father, we shall sink beneath the 
waves," said one whose timidity made him 
shrink from so great and perilous an under- 
taking. 

" The gem will repay you for all your trou- 
ble," answered the father, " and you may 
return safely ; yet if you should go down, the 
mission is a glorious one. It is far better to 
perish in activity than to live an idle life." 

"Let us go, and build our bark," cried a 
chorus of voices. 

" Farewell, my children!" said the father. 
" I hope to welcome you all home, bearing the 
precious gem upon your bosoms." 

They departed. Years swept by, and hopes 
and sorrows were born to many hearts. 

At the close of a dark stormy day, the 



THE GEM OF TKUTH. 133 

father sat looking towards the sea, and praying 
for the safety of his children. 

A wild murmur rose upon the air, — a cry of 
distress. He ran quickly to the shore ? on which 
the angry waves had dashed all day ; and his 
eye caught sight of a human form struggling in 
the waves. Another surge, and his child lay 
at his feet. He took her tenderly in his arms, 
and bore her to their home. 

She laid her head upon his breast, and 
sobbed most violently. 

" I found the gem," she said ; " but the 
cruel waves washed it from me, and tore my 
bark in pieces. There were many other gems 
in the sea I might have brought to thee ; 
but they were not pure and sparkling like 
the Gem of Truth." 

" I care not so much to see the gem upon 
your breast, as to find in your soul the love of 
truth, my child. The gem is there, only hid- 
den from the external gaze. You have 
brought me more than gems or jewels, — your 
own pure self. Thou wouldst not bring to 
me aught but truth. Thou art the gem thy- 
self; " and he pressed her tenderly to his heart. 
" Dry thy tears," he said ; " for many search, 
and find not," 



134 BRANCHES OF PALM. 

The sound of another voice came floating 
on the air. The door flew open ; and a youth 
came, proud and exultant, to his parent, with 
the gem clasped firmly in his hand. 

" Child," said the sire in deep reproving 
tones, " the Gem of Truth should ever be 
worn upon the breast, that all the world may 
see its brightness. You, like many others, 
have grasped it in your palm. That is selfish, 
and unlike the Giver of heaven's great boun- 
ties. Give the gem to me ; and when your 
heart is pure, and free from all unselfishness, 
I will give it back to thee." 

The youth shrank back, abashed, and sat 
still and silent through the hours. 

The sound of a boat was heard near the 
shore : a moment more, and all eyes were 
turned upon a fair maid, who came bounding 
joyously into the room. Her face was radiant 
with smiles, and a bright exultant look was 
in her eye, as she gazed upon the others. 
All eyes rested upon her garments. They 
glittered like rainbow hues amid a storm. 
She wore upon her breast the gem, but 
around it were many others of every hue, 
and on her garments jewels of every form 
and color. She clung fondly to her father*. 



THE GEM OF TRUTH. 135 

expecting to receive his praise and bless- 
ing. 

" Alas ! my child, alas ! " he said ; " I sent 
you for the Gem of Truth. It is true you have 
found it ; but so surrounded by other jewels, 
that its own pure rays are destroyed. Go 
and take the precious gem from your breast, 
and replace it not, till these fading, worthless 
pebbles have lost their various hues. There 
are many who go into the great sea of life, 
and return laden with falsities and errors 
which so bedim the sparkling lustre of Truth, 
that it may as well not rest upon their breast. 
Learn wisdom from this, my child, and thou 
wilt rejoice that I taught thee the value of 
the heavenly gems." 



He does not know when heaven is found, 
Who has not had a thorny ground; 

No peaceful evening rest can come 
Without the long, hard toil of morn. 



Sighs are but soul-waves dashing jewels at 
our feet. 



136 BRANCHES OF PALM. 



She laid them clown in sadness, and fast 

. her tears fell on the little graves : alone she 

went unto her desolate home. How hushed 

and still it was, — no more pattering of little 

feet, no more murmuring of sweet voices. 

mother ! sad is thy heart. It is dark and 
dreary, but thou shalt reap in gladness. The 
days have no sunshine in them when, the 
sower goes into the field to plant his grain; 
but the days are bright and fair when he goes 
to the harvest, and binds the golden sheaves 
together. 

Thou shalt garner thy sheaves of joy in 
heavenly fields, and press thy jewels to thy 
heart again, mother ! Then wilt thou re- 
joice that they were gathered home from the 
storms of earth. Then wilt thou look back 
over thy earthly years, and bless Him who 
gave thee such seeds of happiness to sow. 

Make thy soul radiant with hope, and thy 
little ones will hover over thee, and bring 
peace to thy wounded heart ; soft footsteps 
will be heard within thy home, and angels 
shall dwell with thee. Thou hast sown in 



THE BEREAVED MOTHER. 137 

tears, but thou slialt reap in joy j and, when 
thy tried soul goes home, how sweet will be 
the song of thy dear ones, waiting beside the 
crystal stream for thee ! 



When journeying in strange lands, how 
dear to us is the sight of a familiar face ! So 
in traversing the field of thought, how the 
heart springs to greet those whose features 
glow with a perception of truths which we 
recognize ! 



Not in the sunlight of the soul, when rea- 
son beams forth, guarding each individual 
faculty, but in the twilight of life, and when 
we need a beacon -light, do angels come to 
direct us. 



All truths do not lie about our daily paths. 
We are often permitted to go astray, that we 
may gather unto ourselves not only gems of 
wisdom, but be made more sensibly alive to 
our possessions. 



138 BKANCHES OF PALM. 



He walked in lonely ways. He knew no 
home, and there were few to call him friend. 

His deeds were lowly ; but his soul was 
deeply toned to human needs. He was but a 
man ; but possessed a soul so rich in gentle- 
ness and charity, so full of love to all mankind, 
that God could dwell within his soul, and work 
great and mighty deeds. 

Pure and stainless was his life, - — beautiful, 
true, and good ; and yet we crown him every 
day with thorns. Oh, how we pierce his 
hands and feet, and keep him crucified ! 

When shall we learn to love him as we 
ought ? Not until we feel the need of living 
lives of goodness, truth, and love. It was his 
life, and not his death, that makes us blessed. 
He is our light to heaven's courts ; and when 
we walk amid the poor and lonely, we shall 
feel him by our side. 

We feel not his presence, because we go 
not where he walks. 

He is the way, the life ; and when we feel 
not need of him to show us to the Father, we 
are not in the heavenly path. 



THE ANGEL AND THE LILIES. 139 



There is an angel who visits the earth each 
day, bearing in her hands pure white lilies. 
She has one for each mortal. All receive a 
lily, but few keep it spotless. 

One- eve she came to three beautiful maid- 
ens, and approaching them in their sleep, laid 
upon the bosom of each a fair white lily. Then 
she whispered to them in their dreams, — 

" This is love, pure and spotless. If you wear 
the lilies through life, and keep them pure 
and unfading, I will reward you ; for, at the 
end of your life-journey, there is a heavenly 
mansion, of the glories of which no mortal 
has conceived. 

" If, at the close of this pilgrimage, I find 
the lilies pure and spotless, I will open the 
doors of this wondrous temple, and reveal to 
you all the joys of its inhabitants. 

" But if they are faded, you will be obliged 
to remain outside the temple until purified of 
your sins and earthly passions." 

When the light of morning tinged the hori- 
zon, the maids awoke. 



140 BRANCHES OF PALM. 

" I had a strange dream/' said the youngest 
of the group. 

" So did I," chimed in her sister. 

" And I/' said the third and eldest. 

They related them to each other, and found, 
that, though they varied in detail, they were 
alike in substance, and bore the same teach- 
ing. 

" How strange ! " said the most thoughtful of 
the three. And she mused long upon the 
lesson, while the others became absorbed in 
the cares and pleasures of their daily life ; and 
the dream was forgotten. 

The years passed on, and the blushing light 
of love dawned on the hearts of all. 

The eldest kept the lily spotless on her 
breast. She loved truly and deeply, with no 
taint of selfishness. 

The angel looked often on her pure, calm 
life, and smiled. 

All that came within her home felt the 
calm, sweet peace of her daily life ; and when 
it closed the angel opened a pearly gate, and 
received her spirit into the beautiful temple. 
The lily was spotless and unfaded on her 
breast. 

The others mingled freely in the pleasures 



THE ANGEL AND THE LILIES. 141 

of the world, thinking only of their own joys, 
forgetting the poor and needy, giving frowns 
and impatient words where smiles and God- 
| blessings should have fallen ; and the angel 
wept. 

The lilies drooped and faded on their 
breasts ; and, when death came, no gate opened 
for their spirits, but long they wandered, and 
wept tears of repentance. 

" Alas ! " said one, " why must we forever 
shed these tears ? my eyes are weary with 
weeping." 

" But, see ! " said the other, who at that mo- 
ment raised her head, " Our tears have revived 
the droopiog lilies. We can now enter the 
pearly gate, and see our beautiful sister." 

It was true, their tears had raised and 
.washed the drooping and soiled lilies upon 
their breasts. At that moment, the angel 
stood by their side, and said, " The waters of 
repentance are pure. Thou shalt speedily 
stand in the presence of thy sister." 

They wept tears of joy, and followed the 
beautiful being ; and she opened the gate for 
them to pass in. 

The sisters embraced each other while 
great flushes of joy stole over their features. 



142 BRANCHES OF PALM. 

Angels of love and goodness joyed at the re- 
union. The three walked among the glorious 
beauties of that temple until their joy seemed 
too great to be borne. 

"What wouldst thou have more?" said a 
voice rich in love and harmony at their side. 

" We would share our happiness with our 
friends on earth." they said in unison. 

" I rejoice at thy unselfish love," the angel 
said. " I see the lilies on thy bosom are pure 
and spotless. Thou canst all return to earth 
at intervals, and teach the children there, by 
dreams or impressions, the glories of this 
land." 

" But we cannot be robed in flesh again ? " 
said the three. 

" Thou dost not need the flesh again. It is 
mind alone that teaches. Think now of one 
you would like to bless and comfort: think 
earnestly and prayerfully, and the link will be 
established." 

Down through the subtle currents came the 
electric cord of sympathetic fire, and rested in 
the bosom of one tempest-tossed, and locked 
in by storms. 

"I will not, cannot, bear this sorrow: life is 
too heavy a burden to be borne," said the 



THE ANGEL AND THE LILIES. 143 

earthly one. " If no light breaks on me, I will 
destroy with my own hand this life so burden- 
some." 

The storm abated. The tempest-tossed 
soul grew calm, — a calmness unknown, unfelt 
before. " Whence this comfort ? why this 
peace that comes unto my soul?" said he. 
He lay down and slept. 

"He sleeps now. He has no pure love 
within, no lily on his breast: we will send 
him ours," said the sisters ; for the form was 
their earthly brother, who had traversed many 
paths of sin and error. They took the* lilies 
from their bosoms, and, twining their arms 
together, descended to the earth, laid' the 
lillies on his breast, and departed. 

When he awoke, a deep peace pervaded his 
entire being. The light of love glowed in 
his eye. The baptism of a new life had 
flowed over him; and his aspirations were 
heavenward. 

When the sisters returned, they found 
new and spotless garments awaiting them, 
and a garland for each, made of spotless 
lilies. 

" Some one is laboring for thee, when thou 
art working for others," said the sweet voice. 






144 BRANCHES OF PALM. 

" This is the law of life ; and the more will- 
ing thou art to go to earth 7 and bless its chil- 
dren, the deeper and richer will be thy joys 
here. The Angel of Love blessed thee, now 
thou must, in turn, be angels of love to oth- 
ers." 



There are some souls that do not go be- 
yond and scale the heights to which their being 
can ascend, but stand as guide-posts, pointing 
out the way to life. 

We* pass them, and go on, but seldom 
think it was their hand which directed us to 
the path that leads to home and heaven. 



We see but dimly o'er the waves immortal ; 

The landscape lies across a mist of years ; 
We only know, that, through a golden portal, 

We shall meet those who left us here in tears. 



It is the good we have not done, and not 
positive evil, that keeps us from our posses- 
sions of happiness. 



THE NEW LIGHT THAT SHINETH ON ALL. 145 



A strange light fell upon the earth one day : 
it glimmered along the horizon, and then rose 
high in the heavens, till every hill and tree 
and flower was edged with gold. 

Over the graves and tombs, it seemed to 
shine with an unearthly radiance ; and on 
the heads of sorrowing men and grief-stricken 
women. 

It was not the light of the sun, but the 
dawn of angels' coming, though many said, 
" This is but the light of day ; why do the 
people gaze and wonder so ? " 

But others, with more discernment, saw in 
the glorious rays the forms of angels with 
bright smiles, and bearing in their hands fresh 
garlands for the earth. 

Some grew wild with joy, and left their 
daily tasks, and turned aside from out the 
path of duty ; but, lo ! the rays fell not on 
them. It shone upon their path ; and, while 
they roamed, they lost the heavenly light. 

"We must not leave our duties or our 
daily tasks," said one whose years were rich 
in wisdom. " This light is sent from heaven 
10 



146 BRANCHES OF PALM. 

unto each soul. Let each one receive it into 
his daily life, and bear richer fruits for all its 
warmth and sunshine." 

Others, seeing the light upon their path, 
thought it must be in themselves, and cried 
unto the people, " See how bright and glow- 
ing all my thoughts are ! Look to me ! I am 
your leader.' 7 

The fault was not in the light, but the soul 
on whom it shone ; but many mistook the 
weakness of the individual for the heavenly 
beams, and said, " We will not receive it. It 
does not shine from heaven : it is only a vision 
of the mind," and sat themselves down in 
darkness. 

Some turned their faces full upon the glare, 
until their sight grew dim, and they were 
forced to turn aside, and sit among the shad- 
ows. 

Others, more sensible, sat at their daily 
tasks, and let the rays fall, rich and warm, 
into their homes and on their heads, until all 
their works were tinged with this strange 
light. Each day their souls grew more beauti- 
ful and clear, till angels came : and in their 
transparent light revealed their heavenly 
forms. 



THE NEW LIGHT THAT SHINETH ON ALL. 147 

This light is shining on every home, in eve- 
ry land. It is the light of angel-communion, 
and happy will he be who receives it with 
gratitude, and turns not away from any duty 
of his life. As we open our dwellings for the 
sunshine, so let us open our hearts to the 
floods of life and love that come from the un- 
seen land. 



Calm as the evening shadows that come 
stealing over us are the voices of our spirit- 
friends. Like gentle zephyrs, that fan the 
brow and waft sweet perfume from distant 
bowers, so is the holy influence of angel 
breathings that fall so quietly upon our ears. 



We find our happiest moments in doing 
good. It is more joy for the sun to shine than 
for the earth to receive its rays. 



Sublimest harmonies flow from high and 
holy lives. 




148 BKANCHES OF PALM. 



It was evening. The bright, joyous light 
of day had given place to the moon's mild 
rays. I sat beside the form of one whose life 
was ebbing fast unto the eternal shores. 

I longed to take her hand, and go down with 
her to the still waters ; but my mission was 
not done on earth. 

Quick and fast her breathing came. 

I looked upon her form, and saw a light, pure 
and ethereal, gathering round her head ; and, as 
her breathing grew short, this light increased, 
until a form appeared rising from the brain. 
The features were like, yet unlike, those that 
lay before me. I 

I felt not the suffering of the earthly form, 
so great was this reality. One short convul- 
sive breath, and then the spirit burst its bonds 
of flesh, and rose from earth. 

For a moment, the soul gazed upon the form 
of clay, and then passed into the open air. 
It was a sight words cannot paint, — to have 
the inner vision extended beyond the life of 
clay, and to be able to follow the loved one 
to the immortal shore, where the shining gar- 



THE PASSING ON. 149 

ment is in waiting to be put on, is a joy too 
thrilling for feeble words to portray, — an ex- 
perience to deep too be effaced. 



"Whose hands unlock the gates of our dull 
souls, that the* light of truth may shine in ? 

What loving eye watches our course, and 
what hand folds back the curtain of our 
doubts and fears, that the sun of glory may 
shine in our souls ? 

A Father's hand takes down the heavy bars 
of sin, and lets our prisoned souls escape. 

A Father unfolds the mantle of our grief, 
and stands with radiant shining face about 
our couch at night. 



All things on earth are but typical of the 

glorious hereafter ; and what man longs for as 
sources of happiness, Divinity has prepared 
for him. 



The enemy approaches while we sleep : not 
in our active, waking moments does he come. 






150 BEANCHES OF PALM. 



Autumn. 

What rich, warm colors lie upon the distant 
hills ! How the forests glow as though crowned 
with wreaths of fire ! 

What depths of beauty, what tone and 
harmony, what crowns of glory, resting over 
all the land ! 

How grandly the harvest season comes 
marching up the summer's fields, receiving 
fresh tints of beauty at each step, till we sit 
under the archway of heavenly bounties, and 
lean on golden sheaves ! 

Great Giver of life, how should our hearts 
leap exultant unto thee, when we gaze on the 
wealth of thy hand ! 

How like the season should we come, full of 
song and praise, bearing sheaves of joy, and 
wreaths of thankfulness ! 



As earth turns sunward for its light, 
As flowers drink in the dew ; 

So our whole being seeks the bright, 
The beautiful, and true. 



FAITH AND DOUBT. 151 



<gaitl* and QmM. 

Faith and Doubt met one day in the soul's 
great citadel. Faith was clad in pure white 
garments, on which glittered a thousand gold- 
en stars ; but Doubt was shrouded in black. 
Faith raised her pure white hands to heaven, 
and knelt in prayer. She prayed that her sis- 
ter might see the rays of light that fell from 
her own garment, and learn the great life-les- 
son, that all truths are preceded by shadows 
and deep questionings. 

Doubt. I cannot see how soul and matter 
can be separated, and the one live while the 
other dies, and crumbles away to dust. 

Faith. It does not die : it only changes 
form. Matter is as immortal as mind. I may 
tear the garment which you have on, in shreds; 
but I do not annihilate it. I change its form. 
And so of spirit separated from the body : all 
its component parts are living ; in what form 
we know not. 

Doubt. Can soul take cognizance of earthly 
things? does it know our conditions, our 
states of mind ? 

Faith. Just in proportion to the degree of 



152 BRANCHES OF PALM. 

sensibility the soul possesses. You know the 
condition of your earthly friends according to 
your perception of their surroundings. 

All souls freed from this life come into the 
atmosphere of earth, and mingle freely at 
times with us. 

Doubt. But if we do not know they come, 
what good can it do us ? 

Faith. The lowliest form of mineral life is 
better for the warm rays of the sun, although 
it may have no knowledge of the great source 
of life and light. This is the law of the di- 
vine, that the greater shall bless the less. 

Doubt. But how can the life of spirits be 
made better by coming to the earth ? 

Faith. The same as man is made better for 
doing a good deed. 

Doubt. Can they all alike be made better ? 
and have they equal power to bless us ? 

Faith. No. Just as you or I can impart 
the most to one who is in sympathy with us, 
so can angels or spirits bless those the most 
who are most receptive. 

Doubt. I see ; but tell me, is there a spirit- 
ual as well as a natural absorption ? 

Faith. There is. We absorb the lives of 
those around us. When spirits, on whatever 



FAITH AND DOUBT. 153 

plane, come to us, we absorb their lives into 
our own. 

Doubt. But if they are not good ? 

Faith. We absorb their evil ; and, if we pos- 
sess more harmony of soul than they, we can 
throw it off. With them it would remain a 
long time. 

Doubt. Is that the divine law? does it 
seem just? 

Faith. To me it is clear and just. If I am 
well and strong, I bear my friend's infirmities. 
I take his feebleness, and absorb it into my 
life, and bear it away. If, on the road of life, 
we pass one who has become disabled, we take 
him, and bear him to a place of rest. One is 
external relief, the other internal. 

Doubt. But, if a man is misled by some evil- 
disposed spirit, who is responsible for the 
wrong ? 

Faith. The aggressor ; but there is another 
lesson involved in this', which, I fear, would 
tire your ear to listen to a recital of. 

Doubt. I want light. Go on. 

Faith. Some substances in Nature can 
only be changed by being mingled with more 
potent forces. A being who is dark in error 
and sin needs the quality of a higher and 



154 BRANCHES OF PALM. 

purer soul to help it to light. They are per- 
mitted to come to us, if we are higher ; and 
oftentimes absorb our very life, that their own 
may be enriched. But we are no losers. 
The laws of life are constant change, or mould 
and decay. We are filled again with a richer 
and a purer quality of life and love. Do you 
perceive the truth? 

Doubt. Yes. A ray of light comes to my 
mind. I see a lesson in this great design of 
God. He brings the darker souls to souls of 
light. Is purity ever sacrificed in the action 
of this law of progression ? 

Faith. Never ; for goodness is ever in the 
ascendant. It may be dimmed and shrouded 
for a time, as the sun is hidden by the passing 
cloud. Good and pure souls are often dimmed 
and clouded by dark forms passing through 
their atmosphere. 

Doubt. My thoughts grow clearer. I long 
for your light and hope to guide me. 

Faith. Ask, and ye shall receive ; knock, 
and it shall be opened unto you. 



IN THE WORLD. 155 



A parent who loved his son more wisely 
than most earthly parents, and who longed to 
see him crowned with the light of wisdom, 
knew that he must send him afar from himself 
to gather immortal truth : and his heart was 
moved with a deeper grief when he knew that 
he must send him forth alone, and unprovided 
with means to procure his daily sustenance ; 
for only thus could he learn the lessons which 
were necessary for his soul's development. 

The boy lay sleeping upon a soft white bed : 
his hands were folded peacefully upon his 
breast. Hard was the task the father knew 
was his, — to break that sleep, that slumber so 
profound, and send his boy out into a cold 
and selfish world. But, shaking off the tremor 
and the weakness of his soul, he said, "Arise, 
my son : I must send you forth upon a long 
and dangerous journey to gather truths to 
light your soul ; and you must go without the 
means to procure your bread and shelter. It 
grieves my heart, my son, that all this must 
be so ; but yet I know the journey must be 
taken, and all its danger and privations met. 



156 



BKANCHES OF PALM. 



My prayers and blessings, will go with you, 
child, through all your scenes." 

The astonished son gazed on his father's 
face. The parent turned and wept; then, 
wiping away the fast-falling tears, he said, — 

l( I do not wonder at your earnest, curious 
gaze, you who have so long lived in the bosom 
of my love ; but there are lessons that must 
be learned by every human soul. I cannot 
tell you what these lessons are: they must be 
experienced, else gladly would I spare you 
the toil, and myself the pain of parting.. 

The boy looked sad as he thought of the 
perils and exposures to which he should be 
subjected, without means to procure the least 
comfort. 

The night shades fell on the earth. Only a 
glimmer of daylight tinged the sky, when 
father and son parted, the one for action, the 
other to endure, and wait his return. 

The journey for many days lay over cheer- 
less hills and barren plains ; and many a tear 
was brushed from that young cheek by the 
hand which his father had so warmly pressed 
at parting. 

At the close of a dark, stormy day, weary, 
and faint for food, he was about to lie down 



IN THE WORLD. 157 



on the damp grass, overcome with weariness, 
when he espied an elegant edifice a little way 
beyond. 

" I will travel on/' he said hopefully; "for 
surely, in such a mansion, I shall find .protec- 
tion and food for my famished body." It took a 
much longer time to reach it than he expected; 
but at last, with torn and bleeding feet, he 
came to the broad avenue which led to the 
dwelling. 

"What magnificence ! " he exclaimed. "How 
glad I am that my father sent me hither to 
see such wondrous things ! " With hope beam- 
ing in every feature, he approached the door, 
and knocked. 

It was opened by one whose voice and face 
exhibited no sign of welcome. He cast an im- 
patient glance upon the traveller, who shrank 
abashed and trembling from so rude a gaze. 

" Can I find food and shelter here ? " he 
asked, his voice tremulous with emotion. 

The door was shut upon him. 

It was not the cold of the piercing storm 
which he felt then, but the chill of an inhos- 
pitable soul. It froze the warm current of 
hope, that, a few moments before, had leaped 
so wildly in his veins ; and he went forth from 



158 BRANCHES OF PALM. 

the elegant mansion, and sat upon the ground, 
and wept. 

" father ! why did you send your child 
so far away to meet the harsh and cruel treat- 
ment of the world, when your home abounds 
with plenty ? " said the weary child. 

The shades of night were gathering fast. 
The cold, damp ground, which had been his 
only bed so many nights, offered a poor pro- 
tection now for his weary form. 

" I was contented there. Why did he send 
me .hither?" was the questioning of his soul 
as he sat alone and sad. 

As he was about to lay himself upon the 
ground, he saw light glimmering through the 
trees, just as the light of hope breaks on us 
at the moment of despair. 

" I would journey thither," he said despond- 
ingly ; " but rest and shelter were denied me 
here. How can I hope to find it elsewhere ? " 

But hope whispered to his weary heart; and 
he arose, and passed on. 

It was a small humble dwelling, but one in 
which dwelt loving hearts. 

He turned involuntarily into the little path 
that wound by fragrant shrubs and flowers to 
its door, and then checked himself, as though he 



IN THE WOELD. 159 



could not bear again a cold denial. It were 
far easier to feel the blast and storm than again 
to hear unwelcome tones fall on his ears. De- 
spite his feeble faith, he walked to the door, 
and gave a timid rap. 

The door flew open wide, as though the 
hinges were wild with love ; and there stood 
before him a form all radiant with smiles of 
welcome. She bade him enter ; and the trav- 
eller, already warm with her bright smiles and 
words of welcome, felt a glow pervade his 
whole being, — a feeling new and unfelt be- 
fore ; for he had never, before this absence from 
his father's house, known a want or woe. 

Both food and shelter did the woman give 
unto him ; and, when the morning sun came 
over the eastern hills, another sun of joy and 
gratitude was shining over his hills of doubt. 
And when the woman turned from his warm, 
full thanks, and went about her daily tasks, 
these words came with a new life and mean- 
ing to her mind : " As ye have done it to the 
least of these my brethren, ye have done it 
unto me." 

Years rolled away. The murmur of their 
deeds was like the distant rumbling of re- 
treating clouds after a great storm. 



160 BRANCHES OF PALM. 

The youth visited strange cities, saw na- 
tions at war with each other, and learned the 
conflict of the human soul, and how it battles 
the great life-current which threatens to bear 
it down each hour. Amid all this strife, and 
selfishness of heart, he found many that were 
loyal to God and Truth. He daily learned 
rich lessons which he would not have effaced 
for all the gold and pomp of earth. f 

The light of Wisdom began to dawn. " This is! 
the experience which my father saw I needed. 
Had he provided me with means with which 
to journey through the world, how different 
would have been my life ! I then should have 
known no value of human love and kindness. 
my father ! I long to return to thee, and 
love thee as I never could have loved thee 
before ! " 

He sat weary, but not sad, by the roadside 
one day, thinking of his father's love, when 
the sound of a traveller's approach was heard 
on the road. He turned his eyes in its direc- 
tion, and saw one of his father's servants on a 
beautiful white horse. 

"Your father bids you come," were the 
welcome words that fell upon his ears. 

" Take thy steed," he said, " and journey 



IN THE WORLD. 161 

quickly home : he waits impatiently for your 
return." 

Fast over hill and dale he rode j and when 
day passed from sight, leaving a jewelled sky 
to mark its absence, the long-absent son rode 
to his father's door, and wept tears of joy upon 
his breast. 

Together they stood, father and son, upon 
the Mount of Experience, overlooking all 
the scenes of life. 

Our heavenly Father wakes us all from the 
slumber of infancy and helplessness, and 
sends us forth alone into the world to learn 
life's great lessons. When we have learned 
them well, he sends the pale messenger, 
Death, to take us home. How blessed will be 
that re-union! With the crown of wisdom 
on our heads, how sweet it will be to go no 
more out, but dwell with him forever ! 



The baptism of a great sorrow is purifying ; 
but it needs more than human sight to dis- 
cern why the daily thorns must pierce the 
soul, and keep the spirit fretted and dis- 
turbed. 

11 



162 BRANCHES OF PALM. 



(§M$titm$ tit Wxmt. 

What flowers on the pathway of life have 
you planted? 

How many hearts have been tuned to richer 
melodies by your gentleness and love ? 

What golden anchors have you fastened to 
floating barks out on the troubled waters ? 

What victories over self and sin have you 
won ? 

What sacrifices has your soul laid on the 
altar when your Father called for incense ? 

What use have you made of the gift of 
life? 

Does your soul lie down each day amid a 
halo of joys ? 

Does night bring sweet repose, and peaceful 
dreams ? 

Have the years been filled with noble deeds ? 
or have the days which should have been 
spent in sowing seeds of happiness been idled 
away ? 

Look closely to thy heart, soul ! place 
the light of truth on thy brow, and walk home- 
ward in its rays. 



A VISION. 163 



& mam. 

I see a stream so clear and pure, that the 
beautiful pebbles which lie in its depths are 
plainly seen. 

A throng of people are approaching the 
lake ; and on the eyes of most of them I see 
glasses of varied hues through which they 
look on the stream. One cries, " Behold yon- 
der lake ! how clear and green its waters 
are ! " 

" It is not green, but blue, — clear, heavenly 
blue," said another, who wore the glasses of 
that color. 

" Strange that you can be so mistaken ! " 
said an old and reverent man, who appeared on 
the border of the lake, — " that thou shouldst 
be so mistaken as to its color ! These waters 
are purple, rich and deep-hued." 

" The brightest yellow, or my eyes deceive 
me, that ever I looked upon ! " said another. 

I drew nearer, as I saw approaching a tall 
and beautiful female, who came to the water's 
edge, and, dipping a silver cup in the stream, 
filled it, and then turned the water upon the 
ground. 



164 BRANCHES OF PALM. 

" Children," she said, " these waters are 
white, and colorless as untrodden snow." 

" White ! " cried a chorus of incredulous 
voices. " You surely cannot say that our very 
eyes deceive us ! " 

" Your eyes are true, and do not deceive 
you ; but you are not looking on the waters 
with the light of reason : you are gazing 
through colored lenses, which are only your 
opinions. This is the stream of Truth. All who 
drink here have waters pure and colorless. 
Lay aside those various opinions, and you will 
see the truth for yourself clearly and truly." 

Reluctantly they laid down their glasses. 
Some had been worn so long, that they clung 
closely to the eyes. Others broke into a thou- 
sand pieces at their owners 7 feet. 

It took some time for the crowd to see clear- 
ly, so dim had become their vision by long 
gazing through varied colors ; but, when they 
saw the pure white stream laving green banks, 
their delight was pictured on their faces. 

" The water is not green, nor purple, nor 
yellow, nor blue," they said: " the glasses over 
our eyes really deceived us." And they sat 
down upon the mossy banks, and watched the 
shining pebbles in its bed. 



A VISION. 165 



The stream of Truth is seldom seen with 
unob struct ed sight. We look on it through 
our opinions, and go away telling to others of 
its brilliant green or purple, according to the 
color of our glasses. 

As all colors die, or resolve into white, so 
must these shades and differences dissolve, 
when we come, with vision unobscured by 
varied shades, unto the waters of Truth. 



Oh ! keep thy soul forever absorbent to the 
revolving glories of time. Keep thy spirit in 
sweetest adaptation to the moment and the 
hour. Be forever mantled for emergency. 
Life, bright life, is the glowing theme ; and all 
creation's joy are ours to gather. 



Keep the stream of good deeds agitated. 
Never allow the waters to stagnate. If thou 
hast no earthly goods to give, let the kind 
word, the loving glance, the tender pressure 
of the hand, reveal the flow of sympathy 
within. 



166 BRANCHES OF PALM. 



1 x%$t% fit tU tyQmftmx* 

Father ! open the door of thy great love 
unto a wanderer, and receive my soul into 
thy courts of love. 

1 have traversed the wide world, and made 
idols of clay, and placed them in the secret 
chamber of my soul, where thy holy image 
should have been shrined. 

Behold me, kneeling at thy door, all toil- 
worn, and covered with the dust of sin and 
folly ! 

Father, I yearn for the bread of life ; and, 
though I bring not the freshness of a young 
heart to thy altar, I lay a thirsty soul at thy 
mercy-seat, longing for thy love, as the parched 
earth longs for the evening dew. 

Baptize me wiiji living waters, then show 
my willing feet the way unto the mount of 

joy! 

Too long have I trailed the garment of 
flesh in sin. The dust lies thick and dark 
upon me: let thy chastening rod cleanse me, so 
that I may enter thy pure and holy courts ! 
How feeble are the murmurings of my heart 
to praise thee as I ought ! What thankfulness 



PEAYER OF THE WANDERER. 167 

should clothe my words, that I have learned at 
last " to kiss the rod " ! 

Blessed Parent ! open now the door for a 
long-wandering child, and crown me with thy 
forgiving love. 



When, with the same sacrifice, the same 
self-denial, the same holiness of heart and 
purpose, the same longing for purity of soul, 
one appears in our midst, another Christ will 
be born. 



No utterance of the soul can picture, no 
language can portray, no pathos of the spirit 
delineate, the ecstasy of life eternal. 



Heaven must be gathered by atoms. We 
must work the kingdom of happiness into the 
soul. 



He is courageous who dares to live and buf- 
fet the waves of life* 







168 BRANCHES OF PALM. 



I SAW the morning sun light up the east. 
Its light came slowly over the green hills, and 
against the sapphire-tinted sky the tall trees 
waved ; while floods of golden light lay on 
the dark-green fields, and long avenues of 
light ran through the forests. 

I saw a crowd go forth to gaze upon the 
morning light, and wondered not that they 
should stand amazed and arwed before the 
scene ; for field and flower, and lake and dell, 
were flushed and warm in this bright light. 
The golden orb came up the sky ; and, as the 
day advanced, I saw the worshippers still 
gazing, and looking ever towards the east. 

The noonday came, and yet they stood : and 
when the evening hours drew on, and the sun 
went down in clouds of crimson, violet, and 
gold, they saw not the glory of the evening ; 
for their gaze was still towards the east. 

And thus of truth, I said. Men often 
arouse at its dawn upon the earth, but stand 
idly gazing while the great truth rolls on. 
They never see the end, nor labor in its light, 
but stand and gaze with reverent eyes where 



THE DAWN. 169 



first it dawned. Such are not workers in 
God's world, and never will see the evening 
sky aglow with floods of heavenly light. 



All noble activity is worship. It is far 
better to be innocently employed and happy 
on the day appointed for rest than miserably 
idle. 

There are conditions in which, although the 
hands may be employed, the mind is far above 
the occupation, and more worshipful than in 
states of inactivity. 



We must all remember that we do not de- 
scend the human scale alone. If we go down, 
we drag some loving heart with us. The chain 
that binds humanity never breaks. 



A child may turn the key of the temple 
of Truth. The lowliest can show us the 
homeward path when we are lost. 









170 BRANCHES OF PALM. 



®U pfltot txm &bm. 

If we rise to great heights, we must de- 
scend again. All permanent enjoyments of 
the soul are gained by slow and sure ascent. 
They are not ours until the price of toil is 
paid. We own the ground our feet have trod, 
no more. We would not dwell in any house 
that was not our own by honest right ; so we 
cannot live in or through another's thoughts. 
Each soul must work its own salvation. Our 
own hands must* cut away the foliage that 
bounds our sight and dims the light of heav- 
en. We may have eternal sunshine on our 
path, if we but remove the objects from about 
US, shading us from heaven's pure light. 

The states to which we are sometimes lifted 
are only to show us how much there is be- 
yond, and how all our efforts will be repaid 
by glimpses of a life beyond our own small 
space, so thickly covered with the shades of 
error. Let us cut the dark overhanging 
trees away, so that the pure rays of heaven 
may shine on and illumine our path. 






PURIFICATION. 171 



As the refiner sits beside the furnace, watch- 
ing the silver in its process of purification 
until his face is visible in the metal ; so Christ 
sits by us while we are in the " fiery furnace," 
and takes us not away until his image is re- 
flected in our own. 

It is our purification, and not our destruc- 
tion, which he labors for; and the fiery trial 
will not be greater in intensity or duration 
than is requisite for that end. Like the molten 
silver, which continues in a state of agitation 
until all impurities are thrown off, and then 
becomes still ; so we know no rest until the 
dross is burned away, and our Saviour's face 
is seen reflected in our souls. 



There are some periods of time that seem 
to the years what the jewel is to the setting, — 
radiant and glowing with joy, round which all 
other years are set. 



172 BRANCHES OF PALM. 



Prophet, what dost thou see 

Over the mist of years 
Sweeping over the lea ? 

Sorrows, hopes, or fears ? 
Say, do the clouds hang low, 

Dark as a funereal pall ? 
Will the waters surge and flow 

Over the green banks all ? 

Are there no gleams of day 

Lighting the shades of night ? 
Speak ! will the storm away, 

Leaving us golden light ? 
Yes : I can see through years 

Between us and the sun : 
Time has wasted the shroud 

Freedom's day has begun. 

Out from the tower of Faith 

All these glimpses I see ; 
Never in valleys of Doubt 

Could I look over the lea : 
Now, in waters of rest, 

Let the anchor fall deep ; 
For under our surging fears 

Beautiful jewels sleep. 



WAITING. 173 



A toiling mother sat at eventide beside a 
cheerful fire, waiting for her son to come and 
share the bounties of the evening meal. 

All day her thoughts had been of him whose 
feet she thought were homeward tending. 
Her labor became a light burden on her hands 
as she thought that his face would shine upon 
her at the eventide. 

As the evening shadows fell, her ear caught 
every sound, as though it must be that of the 
footsteps of her son. 

The hours wore on. She stirred the glow- 
ing coals, that there might be no lack of 
cheering welcome at his return. 

The hands upon the dial marked the mid- 
night hour ; yet he came not. 

Our heavenly Parent sits beside the fire of 
love, and waits our coming more tenderly than 
that fond mother. 

The banquet which his bounteous hand has 
spread is waiting, and yet we tarry till the 
evening shades go down in night. 

He sits, and sorrows that our feet are not 
turned homeward, and sighs to know, that, 



174 BRANCHES OF PALM. 

while the feast is waiting ; we wander, and 
feed on husks. 

No morn will dawn unto that mother which 
brings not her son. 

Our heavenly Father waits the dawn which 
shall bring us unto him. 

Shall we tarry, and dim the light of that 
eternal day which he longs to see break over 
our nights, and keep him anxiously waiting 
for our coming? 

Or shall we turn our wayward feet to the 
home where the fire of love burns ever, and 
the bread of life everlasting awaits our hun- 
gry souls ? 



It is in our weakest moments that our 
Father holds us most tenderly to his breast. 

It is the weary child we take to our arms : 
the strong one walks by our side. 



As voices upon the shore are heard far 
over the waters, so our words and deeds are 
wafted upon the waves of time, and heard 
upon the eternal seas. 



CHILDREN. 175 



Loving messengers from heaven, sent to 
guide us thither. 

Fair gems, lent to us to wear upon our 
breasts, that angels may, in hours of darkness, 
discern their pure light, and come to our re- 
lief. 

Tender buds, untouched by the blasts of 
winter, basking in the warm light of love and 
joy, with tears of fleeting sorrow trembling 
on their cheeks like morning dew on fair blos- 
soms. 

Pure white lilies, rest on our troubled wa- 
ters, till we sing the evening song, and go out 
to dwell no more on earth. 

Open for us the pearly gates with your 
fairy fingers j for our hands are unsteady with 
long labor. 

Tell us, in childish prattle, of the ever- 
watchful love of God. 

Sweet rippling rills, cooling our parched 
souls, how thy love and innocence bless us ! 
and we praise the Infinite for the heavenly 
buds which he has twined in our life gar- 
land. 



176 



BRANCHES OF PALM. 



So conclusive must be the evidence to man 
of the immortality of mind and matter, that 
incredulity must tax its powers to the utmost 
to conceive of retrogression or annihilation. 

To the mind that sees not through the vein 
of philosophy, the elucidation of principles 
in the spirit-life are mere statements, without 
thought or analogy ; but he that follows the 
natural reason of his own soul will not be 
tardy to perceive, that, without this eternity 
of material things, the spirit can never grow 
or progress. 

As Nature abhors a vacuum, so the mind 
repulses the thought of existing in an airy 
space, without external surroundings, recog- 
nizable by the spirit. 

These material things of which we are in 
daily cognizance are types of the spiritual 
kingdom ; for every atom of animate nature 
hath its spiritual growth. 

Every flower hath its spirit-essence. 



THE DIVINE PRINCIPLE IN MAN. 177 



To reclaim a wanderer from his ways, tell 
him he is a child of God ; tell him the little 
quivering spark will glow within him until 
it grows into a star, and burns out the re- 
morse. 

If it were not for this God-star within him, 
man would never feel remorse for his sins. It 
is that divine principle which grows in its in- 
harmonious surroundings, and flutters to be 
free. Were there such a thing as a child of 
total depravity, he could dwell in evil forever, 
and feel no compunctions, no wakings, of con- 
science. 

How gloriously does the divine principle 
within us glow, as we learn to dwell in the 
sphere of the Angel of Harmony ! How 
sweetly her pinions unfold, till the soul plumes 
its way over the discords of life, and seats 
herself beside a harp whose strings are the 
elements of creation, and whose melody is the 
love of God to man ! 
12 



178 BRANCHES OF PALM. 



®tt* f&mvn tut a Mnmn §ag* 

One summer day, when clovers blossomed 
in the soft green grass, and tall trees spread 
their giant branches forth as if to bestow ben- 
edictions on the summer scene ; when birds 
sang out their parent songs, so rich and full 
upon the air (I thought they knew to whom 
they sang such notes of praise), — I sat beside 
a woodland's edge, gazing on the scenes of 
Nature's loveliness. 

It was morning ; and its golden bars lay on 
the emerald hills, while fleecy clouds crowned 
their tops, causing them to appear like heads 
of reverent age bowed in prayer. In the dis- 
tance lay a lake, its waters clear as crystal, 
on whose undulating bosom floated lilies pure 
and fragrant. 

I thought how sweet and pure the offering 
of the earth compared to that which my dull 
soul offered, as I gazed, and drank these beau- 
ties in. 

A drowsiness came over my mind, and soon 
I seemed to stand amid a thousand worlds 
glowing with a Father's love. I saw this lit- 



THE LESSON OF A SUMMER DAY. 179 

tie orb floating in its azure vault like an atom 
in the limitless field of creation. 

I saw other worlds, more beautiful and fair, 
seeking to shed their light on earth. . 

I saw that this was but the child of other 
worlds more complete and full, as age is riper 
and richer than childhood ; and as the child's 
life is but a miniature semblance of its par- 
ent's joys and cares, and partaking of them, so 
to me seemed the earth revolving around 
greater orbs, receiving their rays of life and 
light. And as the clear lake mirrored the 
blue sky, so our world absorbed and reflected 
portions of the worlds above ; and each soul 
upon the earth was taking on the impress of 
attendant angels, according to their state of 
passivity. 

Then I saw that some souls were dark and 
selfish, like an object which absorbs all the 
rays of light, and reflects none, receiving, but 
radiating no glory around its path. 

On the motion of gentle winds I rose, mov- 
ing upward and onward until the scenes grew 
too vast for human eyes. I felt the clogging 
weight of flesh. It bore me down, as sor- 
rows weigh more heavily on our hearts in 
festive scenes ; and then I prayed to have the 



180 BRANCHES OF PALM. 

great, the boundless realms shut from my sight, 
and to open my eyes again upon the jewelled 
summer scene. 

I awoke to see the rays of the sun, in all 
their noontide blaze of light, falling on the 
earth, and parching the morning dew-kissed 
flowers. 

" To ripen fruits and grains, some flowers 
must be withered," said a voice without, and 
yet within my soul. 

And thus of life, I said, while I gathered 
the lesson to my heart : the scorching suns 
that fall upon our souls to ripen our being 
must blight some cherished hope, some little 
flower. 

I sat till the dews of evening came ; and 
then, amid the wealth of a jewelled heaven 
shining over my head, I walked my homeward 
way. 

Thus may we walk to our eternal home. 
After the morning light, and after the glare of 
noonday sun, has ripened all our thoughts, 
may we walk heavenward, with the light of 
angels glowing upon our path I 



THE PRAYER OF SOUL. 181 



Father divine, oh, may my prayer 
Be wafted on the morning air ! 
Bright as the bird that soars on high, 
Light as the breeze which fans the sky, 
Swift as the lightning through the air, 
Let all invoke the morning prayer. 

All Nature flows in rapturous lay ; 
Life beams in one eternal ray ; 
One anthem swells the choir on high : 
No cadence of the peal shall die ; 
But, floating on the breeze of love, 
The silent offering soars above. 

The prayer of soul, the soul of prayer, 

Flows unrestrained upon the air. 

As perfume from the beauteous flower 

Is breathed in sweetness more than power, 

So let our incense fill the air 

With deep humilty and prayer. 



There are flowers within the soul that God 
has planted, and he is waiting to catch their 
fragrance. 



182 BRANCHES OF PALM. 



Oh that I could mount, and rise unto the 
stars ! Oh that I could catch glimpses of a 
larger life ! " How shall I rise ? " was my 
soul's most fervent prayer. 

" Surely not with all this load of care," I 
said ; for I seemed borne to earth with trials. 

It was evening ; and I sat alone upon a sea- 
washed beach, watching the waves as they 
beat upon the sand. 

I closed my eyes, and saw with the inner 
sight, far out upon the sea, a tiny bark battling 
with the waves. Soon a dark cloud gathered 
over the boat, and from the cloud a hand 
emerged, and dropped a burden on the boat. 

" Oh, such a load ! " I cried with fear. " It 
will sink the boat beneath the waves ; but, 
lo ! when I looked again, the heavy burden had 
rolled to one end, and the other rose into the 
air. 

I read the lesson in what I saw, and knew 
that a loving Father's hand drops burdens on 
our bark of life, that we may be lifted to the 



OUR BURDENS. 183 



Thus by our very burdens and our sorrows 
do we rise ; and every cloud conceals a guar- 
dian hand that bears us blessings. 



We are often let down to great depths of 
anguish ; but the cord that binds us to the 
Infinite is never broken. It may corrode in 
passing through the damp and sunless places, 
and sometimes be buried in the earth, far 
from our sight ; but the links are never bro- 
ken, never loosed, although the rust of sin may 
lie long upon the chain, — the rust that gath- 
ers from the dew of midnight tears. 

This chain of love may sometimes lie about 
our feet, impeding all our steps ; but it is the 
chain our Father holds, one end of which is 
bright with radiant life, and a golden chain 
held by tireless hand, — the hand of One who 
never fails to reward his erring children with 
crowns of immortal life and love. 



184 BRANCHES OF PALM. 



Sto Start. 

A husbandman walked over barren fields, 
one day, amid a throng of people ; and, calling 
them together, he said, — 

" Behold these lands lying idle under the 
ripening sun and gentle rains ! I wish to 
have them cultivated, that I may from them 
reap a bounteous harvest. For this purpose, 
I have brought you grains and seeds, which 
I will distribute, and allot to each person his 
place of labor." 

The people gathered about him, and listened 
eagerly to the words of wisdom which fell 
from his lips while he divided among them 
the seed. 

The rays of the setting sun fell on the 
meadows when his task was done ; and he 
turned from the group with these parting 
words : — 

" At the close of the season, I will come 
and help you bind your sheaves, and gather 
your fruits and flowers. Be ye faithful, each 
to his own work, and the harvest will well 
reward you all. Farewell ! " 

He departed. 



THE HARVEST. 185 



Many of the people went earnestly to work. 
Some sat. and thought upon the words of the 
husbandman ; while others fell asleep. 

The morning sun rose on the laborers. 
The sky was all aglow with light, as though 
smiling on their efforts. Cheerfully they 
toiled all the day, and turned the soil to the 
sun, and dropped the seed into the ground. 

Tbey ceased not till their task was done, 
and then lay down to rest. 

Those who had fallen asleep awoke, and, 
seeing the sun walking over the western 
hills, said among themselves, "'Tis too late 
to-day ; to-morrow we will begin our work ; " 
and drew drowsily back to slumber. 

The days and months marched on to the 
music of happy voices and busy scenes. The 
foliage of summer changed their tints from 
green to autumn's russet-brown and gold. 

The fruit hung rich and ruddy-ripe in the 
sunshine. 

The laborers stood beside the ripened grain 
and fruit, waiting for the husbandman to come. 
Over the hills they turned their gaze, and not 
in vain ; for, on the mountain-brow, they soon 
saw his presence. 

His step was firmer than when he went 



186 BRANCHES OF PALM. 

away ; and, on his face, lines of deeper thought 
were traced. 

He wore a garment of purple, embroidered 
with gold. On his arm hung wreaths, twined 
of roses and elegant flowers. 

He walked rapidly towards the group, who 
turned not their gaze a moment from his face ; 
and, when he stood in their midst, all heads 
were bowed — from youth to age alike — to 
greet him and do him reverence. 

" My laborers," he said, " I joy to see you 
standing by your sheaves and gathered fruits 
and flowers ; but where are they to whom I 
gave the seeds for yonder lands, which still 
lie idle in the sun?" 

" They're sleeping by the roadside beyond," 
said one whose voice was toned to pity. 

" Go, call them," said the husbandman. 
"This is the harvest-day. Tell them I bid 
them come." 

A youth ran eagerly to the sleeping forms. 
Long did he work to rouse them from their 
slumber ; and when they awoke, and gazed on 
him, they only answered with words of hate 
and scorn, and followed slowly in his steps to 
the harvest-scene. 

The husbandman stood apart a while, and 



THE HARVEST. 187 



raised his voice in prayer. Most fervently he 
prayed for those who had idled all their days 
away, and left their seeds and land to lie in 
waste. Then, calling the laborers to his side, 
he crowned each with a wreath. " And why 
was not your task done ? " he inquired of one 
among the idle group. " The seeds you gave 
me were so small, and seemed so worthless, 
and then I learned that they would bear only 
such small white flowers. I wanted to be en- 
gaged in raising grains and fruits as my 
friends and neighbors were doing." 

" faithless one ! " he said in solemn tones, 
"I gave thee the seeds of the purest flowers 
that grow. They are sweet to me ; and I 
longed to rest my eyes upon their snow cups 
once more, and bear them away. I gave thee 
the work because I thought thee pure and 
innocent like my buds. Go, now, and learn to 
plough and turn the heavy soil. Thou wouldst 
not work for thy master : work now for grain 
to keep thyself from hunger ! " 

Both husbandman and laborer wept. 

He called another, who came bearing no 
fruits. 

"Why empty-handed?" the master asked. 
" I could not raise such fruit upon my land as 



188 BRANCHES OP PALM. 

my neighbors did on theirs ; and so I threw 
the seed away, and awaited your coming for 
another kind." — " Thou, too, hast failed, 
faithless one ! I asked thee not to produce 
better fruit than the seed would bring forth. 
It was thy work to sow what I gave thee. 
It was the seed of a kind of fruit that is cool- 
ing to the taste. I passed a group of sick and 
fevered on my way : to them I promised some 
of this cool, refreshing fruit. They must now 
linger and die ; for, before another season comes, 
none of the healing fruit can be obtained. De- 
part, my erring child, into the wide, rough 
field ; turn the soil over and over ; and, when 
I come again, I will bring thee seed. I must 
prove thee worthy of my trust ; and, if I find 
thee standing beside the plough, I will give 
into thy charge seeds of fruit, but not so 
needful to mankind as those thou hadst, lest 
more perish on account of thy unfaithfulness. 
I hope to find thee worthy of another trust." 

A third came weeping, and knelt low at the 
husbandman's feet. 

"What hast thou reaped for me?" — "I 
slept the season all away," he said in tones 
of deep remorse. " I dreamed strange dreams. 
Each day I woke, and thought I would go forth 



THE HARVEST. 189 



to labor in my field; but steep and visions 
lured me back again, and now the harvest-day 
has come. I have no grain, no fruit, nor flow- 
ers for thee, though thou didst give me seeds 
of all." — "I grieve, my fair one," the hus- 
bandman said, " that I cannot crown thy fair 
brow with the wreath I twined for thee ; but 
rise upon thy feet, and go to work. I will 
give thee now but one kind of seed : be faith- 
ful unto that, and bring me a full return at 
my next coming." 

When he had crowned all the laborers, 
there remained yet many wreaths. 

"I will not bear them back again," he 
said, as he tore them, leaf by leaf, into 
shreds. The leaves and tendrils fell upon 
the ground, and the wind bore them far over 
the hills. 

" Oh the beautiful wreaths ! He has wasted 
them," said one of the idlers. 

" Not so, my child," he said. " Had I kept 
them to fade and droop, they were worse than 
wasted. I have scattered the seeds of the 
flowers, and future generations will gather 
new beauties from them. They will rejoice 
in their beauty and fragrance, and thus 
will they become crowns of happiness at 



190 BRANCHES OF PALM. 

last to some. There is no waste in G-od's 
great kingdom." 

At the great harvest- day, shall we stand 
beside our sheaves and fruits with our eyes 
fixed on our labors, as the vision of the group 
was fastened on their master ? 

If we loiter and sleep beside the way of 
life, shall we give words of scorn to him whom 
the master sends to rouse us ? 

Let us be faithful laborers, improving the 
talents which he has given us, and thus be- 
come worthy of the crown of happiness which 
our heavenly Father has woven for us. 



Truth ever comes shrouded. That which 
brings light and wisdom we see not at first. 
The darkened cloud precedes the tiny drops 
of rain that make the flowers come forth. 



As we place rare jewels in a deep setting to 
enhance their beauty, so God sets great souls 
in dark surroundings, that earth may better 
see their heavenly beauty. 



AT LAST. 191 



At last we shall rest our weary heads far 
from this world, where no blight and no 
storms come. 

At last the golden gate will swing open, 
and we shall enter in to peace and rest. 

At last we shall go out to join the host 
above, and give back to Nature the garment 
she hath loaned us. 

At last the weary mind and heart shall re- 
pose in a diviner life, where, on the bosom of 
the Infinite, all tempest-tossed souls shall lie. 

At last we shall bid adieu to earth and its 
cares to hear the welcome of angel-voices on 
our ears. 

At last the heavy cross shall be taken, and 
the palm of eternal life placed on our brow. 

It will be morning there, and the years of 
earth will roll away like a scroll. 

There will be no night there ; for G-od him- 
self will light that world. 

At last we shall be known as we are : all 
earthly glare will fade away, and the soul 
stand out in its native worth. 

At last that celestial city will burst upon 



192 BRANCHES OF PALM. 

our enraptured vision just as the feet grow 
weary in life's ascent. 

From heavenly domes, at last, will familiar 
faces gleam, and the years of our parting seem 
but as a day. 

At last, weary one ! at last, shall rest and 
peace and joy abide with thee forever. 






